Addicted
by vipper902
Summary: Miroku is a drug addict who has been forced into rehab. While there, he meets a young doctor named Sango. As thier relationship begins getting deeper then merely professional, how far will Miroku go to change? How far will Sango go to help him?
1. What It's Like

**Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha or any of it's characters, even though I wouldn't mind one bit!**

**A/N: Whoo. My first Sango and Miroku story. Yay! Um…yeah…I should really stop writing so many new stories but oh well! It's summer so I don't have to go to school anyway. This is dedicated to I's wonDERful friend fanfictiongeek36. Sango and Miroku are her favorite pairing, so I had to write a story for them! Something angst, romantic, and un-cliched, just the way 'ya like it idiot.**

**Warnings: Um…this story is rated for language, drug use, violence, and some adult situations because Miroku is a pervert.**

**Miroku- I am not!**

**Also, at the end of each chapter (I hope anyway), I'm going to be putting up the lyrics for the song each chapter was named for. This whole story is based on Yellowcard's song 'Powder'. Also, please review, because this is my first attempt and a Sango/Miroku.**

* * *

Rain. Freezing drops of water falling from an already dark sky, pouring down on the heads of the people who were silly or unfortunate enough to have to be outside in the unusual weather. The rain was not unusual, of course. Rain was something that happened everywhere. But this was the fourth day in a row it had rained. Four days of whipping winds, of violent downpour, of freezing temperatures, of absolute misery. It was, as some people called, Armageddon weather. According to some, it was the end of the world, the four days of rain signifying God trying to wash the earth clean of the sins of its people.

He could blame it on the rain.

It was a pathetic excuse, he knew it, but right now, he was pathetic. Walking down the dark and grimy streets, clutching the stolen money in his dirty hands, pulling his flimsy coat even closer to try and keep himself warm. If it was the end of the world, then he would need something to get him through. They couldn't expect him to go through the Apocalypse all alone, could they?

Who are they anyway? And what the hell gave them the right to tell him what to do anyway?

He was cold, shivers running down his spine, causing him to tremble convulsively as he continued walking. His feet ached from running, and he really wished that he had some actual shoes instead of the flip flops he was wearing. Gripping the wad of cash he held even more tightly, he briefly thought of using this money to buy a new pair of shoes. That would be a good use, wouldn't it? Better than what he planned to use it for.

Then again, how would having a brand new pair of Adida's help him if it was the end of the world?

His teeth began chattering with the cold. Doing a quick scan of the streets surrounding him, he checked his mental map, seeing that he was only a few more blocks away from his destination. His stomach turned. 'Get a hold of yourself. You're acting like some damn kid. Grow a back bone.' He continued chiding himself for beings so nervous. It wasn't as if he hadn't been down this street before. He'd seen the graffiti, the children trembling in alley ways, the women waiting on the street corners with promises of pleasure in the dark for only a few dollars, the homeless begging for work or money, the drunkards who were still hanging outside of the bars; he was numb to it all. He'd been one of those people before. Smiling bitterly at the irony of it all, he realized that in a way, he still was.

He was still stealing, cheating, lying, and doing anything he could to get what he wanted. He wore different clothes now, lived on the other side of town, even had a minimum wage paying job as a waiter; he was supposed to be better than this. Then again, who was he to think that he was better than anyone? He wasn't. He wasn't better than the boy who had written his name on the side of the building, than the scruffy men asking people to spare some change; he was them. Just in a different form. He was the scum of the alley that everyone looked down upon, he was packaged differently; the same hopeless soul you find inside of the shell, just with a different kind of wrapping.

The sound of police sirens echoed through the alley way. His first instincts were to begin running, to tell his feet to move again because they had caught up with him, it was his last chance to get away. 'You're being paranoid. Why would they come looking for you? It was only sixty dollars from a low-class restaurant. Who's really going to notice that?' No one would, most likely. And even more likely, no one would notice that he was gone. Not that he cared anyway. Sometimes, he barely noticed himself.

It was pitiful, he supposed, to be in his position now, and to be brooding about the fact that he was alone. He had always been alone, and he was just fine with it. There was no need for anyone else. Somewhere along the line, after the deaths of his mother and father, before the true horrors of his life began, he'd learned that if you're alone, you will never find anyone to care about, you will never have a reason to hurt. There were flaws with his conclusion, oh he knew that. He had suffered through a lot in his lifetime, been through things that might not have happened had his stubborn ways allowed him to take a helping hand that was leant to him. Also, if you never cared, then there would be no one to care about you.

That was true loneliness. And in all honesty, he hated it, couldn't stand the thought of being alone. One day, when he got over this, out of this stage of his life, he would have a family. Wife, kids, dogs, a house with a white picket fence, real job, car; the works. 'Stage? Is that what you're calling it now? Pathetic, worthless, pitiful, trash. You'll never get over it, will you? This is what you are.'

God damned stupid voices in his head. Never letting him have a moments piece. Why couldn't they just shut the hell up? He was not worthless. He was not trash. He was better than that. For a moment, his feet stopped moving. His entire body stilled; the only thing moving was his chest, rising and falling with each shaky breath he took. He was better than this.

He was not some drunkard or whore waiting out on the street for a few dollars.

He was not some bum with no money or no home.

He was not some druggie who steals money from their restaurant to come down and buy another bag of their miracle drug.

Oh, wait a minute.

Yeah he was.

Letting out a raspy, strangled cry, he ran to the wall of the alley, letting his forehead hit the wet surface. 'Stupid. What the hell am I doing? Stealing again. I won't go back there. I won't. I am not like this. This isn't who I am.' He turned around, his eyes narrowed in determination to march right back down this alley and go back to work, return the money, and get some fucking help. He sighed heavily, allowing his back to hit the wall, and slid down the cool surface onto the ground. He cringed as he felt cold water seeping into his jeans. 'Shit. Great. Just fucking great.' In his right hand, he held the wad of cash he had just borrowed only twenty minutes ago, contemplating whether or not he should continue walking through this alley or if he really should go back and return it. He would probably lose his job if he admitted to stealing. Then again, he would probably be dead soon if he finished what he had came here to do. Absently, he began to pull out blades of grass with his other hand.

Furrowing his brow, he began weighing the pro's and con's of his actions. It was really a useless exercise; he'd done it a million times before. He did always end up coming to the same conclusion. 'Just one more time. I just need it one more time. Then, it's all over. I can be strong…just after one more time.' He thought on this for a while. Hadn't he been saying the same thing to himself for the past five years? With a heavy sigh of defeat, he began to stand. His legs were shaking. With cold or with fear, he couldn't tell. Rubbing his left against his pant leg nervously, he looked down when he felt something in his hand. He brought it up, studying the small object. It was a simple blade of grass. He growled softly and tossed it back down. 'Fuck it.' He turned around, and began walking the other way. The way back to work; the way home. The way out of this hell hole.

Even though his legs were aching, his feet were throbbing, he began to run as quickly as they could carry him. Maybe if he ran fast enough, he could fly through the fabric of time, racing back to a time when he still had a handful of free will. 'Fabric of time huh? Look's like you're already high.' Ha ha ha. That was so fucking funny he forgot to laugh. He scowled a bit as he ran. He really was to hard on himself.

Soon, the aching in his side and his shortness of breath got the better of him, and he slowly began to come to a complete stop. He was panting hard, causing small clouds of his breath to appear in front of him. Almost like a child, he tried to touch his breath with an outstretched hand, but of course all there was air and cold. Maybe he really was high.

The feeling of the bottom of his jacket being tugged on caused him to look down. There was a man, maybe around his forties, a white messy beard covering his face, a dirty woolen cap pulled over his eyes, his ratty old jacket closely huddled to him, with his gloved hand wrapped around the bottom of his own jacket.

"Spare some change?" he asked, his voice raspy. He let out a cough, the sound of the other man's dry and scratchy voice causing him to wince a bit. "Please man. I'm not gonna spend it on boo's. I swear…" he slurred.

"Yeah, you're already drunk," he spat much more harshly then he meant to. He gulped down the apology he had almost immediately spoken, shaking his head. 'I have to get out of here. No stops.' He wrapped his hand around the other mans, a shiver running through him as he felt the other's ice cold hand. 'He's going to freeze to death out here.'

"Please?" he questioned again. This time, he looked down, meeting the pleading man's eyes. "I swear I won't…I'm not asking for much. Just some spare change." His voice was so desperate, quivering with fear and shame, it made him want to cry. 'So much for your hardened heart.' He couldn't just say no, could he? Just leave this man when he had plenty of money in his pocket. Just enough; just the exact amount. If he gave it to this man, then he wouldn't be tempted to go, right? He would know that he didn't have enough money and that would be the end of it. 'Do you think it will be that simple? Do you think that if you give this pathetic bastard a few dollars you'll be able to turn away from it all? Please. You know you'll just get the craving again. Who knows what you'll do to get the rest you need this time.'

He shook his head, a few strands of hair falling in front of his face. "Get a job," he said coldly and turned away, heading back down the alley. He heard the man let out a small whimper and hit the ground. He winced. So badly did he want to go back and help the man, but all he could do was run.

He cursed himself over and over again; the way he had been doing for so many nights and days now. He really was weak. He really was the scum of his earth. Well, if he was, then he had to play the part didn't he? The scum of the earth couldn't be sitting around in their apartment, watching the cable they had stolen from their neighbors, thinking on how they could do their share to help the world. No, the scum had to be slackers. They had to be the one's that everyone looked down upon, who got kicked in the dirt and then spat on by all of those who were better. 'At least you've got a place in the world.' Yeah. He had a place all right; scum. Wasn't that reassuring.

By the time he reached his destination, he felt ready to pass out. The running and mental abuse he had been giving himself was already beginning to take it's toile. He scanned his eyes over the old building in front of him, giving it a once over like he'd never seen it before, even though he'd been in this position at least twenty times in the past months. Warily, he began walking towards the abandon warehouse.

He almost raised his hand to knock, then laughed softly at his own naivety. Knocking. Who'd ever heard of such a ridiculous notion. He opened the door, quickly ducking into the doorway, avoiding it as it fell onto the ground, causing a loud noise to go throughout the alley and the building. 'So much for the quite, brooding entrance scene.'

The sound of yells and screams and hard kicks echoed throughout the old building. Not wanting to be seen, he quickly hid behind a few old cardboard boxes. A picture of a smiling and dancing wallaby holding a small wand was on one of the boxes. He raised a queer eyebrow and resisted from snorting. As hopeless and pitiful as his situation was, he would never get over the fact that one of the most powerful drug lords in Tokyo did business out of an abandoned toy factory.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a young girl, perhaps only a child, being picked up by her throat and thrown against the wall. He wanted to go help her, but if he moved even an inch from his position he would be spotted. He didn't exactly didn't want to be caught spying.

"You were stealing again," said a cold voice, spoken evenly and calmly.

The young girl trembled and attempted to wrap her small arms around her knees, trying to pull herself up into a sitting position. "I…I w-wasn't. I was just trying to…I…" She was cut off by one last choking sob before a foot made contact with her ribs.

"And here, I took you in, gave you shelter, clothing, food, and work, and yet you still betray me."

"I-I'm sorry. I w-won't do it again. I…I…p-promise…" she said.

He watched as the figure knelt down, placing a hand underneath her chin, lifting up her face. For a moment, he thought that he might actually wipe away her tears, kiss her forehead and apologize. He'd been watching too many after school specials.

Another slap landed hard across her face, sending her nearly unconscious. The man just shook his head, his wavy raven hair moving slightly as he did so.

"Useless," he muttered to himself and turned around, sighing heavily. "I should have known not to take one in so young."

He bit his lip, trying to keep from attacking him himself. Of course, he knew that would be suicide. He stayed hidden for what seemed like another half-hour. He didn't move when he heard the sounds of other's coming into a building, didn't wince when he heard them drag the girl away, didn't even breath until he was sure that it was only himself and the other in the building.

Slowly, he began backing away from the boxes and back to the door. After waiting a few more moments, he walked into the middle of the room, pretending as if he hadn't been crouched in a corner, but had just walked in.

A cruel smirk crept across his face as he saw the man enter. "Well," he said slowly. "This is a pleasant surprise. I haven't seen you around here in a while."

"Spare me Naraku," he said, his eyes looking down to the ground before swallowing his anxiety down. "I've got the money."

"I'm sure you do," the raven haired man acknowledged with a nod. "You always were one of the more trustworthy customers."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the wad of bills. Shaking, he walked closer to the man and held it out, handing it to him without ever making eye contact. He watched Naraku count the bills.

"Hmm," he said in disappointment.

"What?" he questioned nervously. "What's wrong? I've got all the money."

"Relax my boy. It's no problem. You're only a few twenties short that's all. I'm sure you can scrape it up somehow."

"Nani?" he asked again, blinking in anger and confusion. "A few twenties? But you last time it was only…and you said that since I did you that favor you would give me a discount!"

"No need to yell. I did say that and I don't go back on my deals, you know that. I am giving you a discount."

"Then that should be enough…" he argued.

Narrowing his red eyes, Naraku took a step forward. "Well it's not. Prices have risen since you've been out of this part of town. Now, either you get the rest of the money, or you don't get the coke. It's simple, you know how it works, or have you been gone so long you've forgotten?"

He clenched his fists, causing what nails he had left to dig into the palm of his hand. "It's only been two months," he said, clenching his teeth together. "So no, Naraku, I haven't forgotten. But I just need more time to get some money together. Do you think that you could just give me half? I mean, I've got more then half of the payment right here, so it's more then fair…"

"Fair?" he questioned, amusement lacing his voice. "Since when were any deals I've ever made fair? Listen, since you are such a loyal customer, perhaps we could work out some type of…deal."

He didn't miss the evil glint in the other man's eyes as he suggested this. He cringed inwardly, knowing exactly what kind of deals Naraku made. Stealing again, being his little lackey, being a delivery boy; some he knew had even had to replace the women and men who had been picked off the street and taken to jail for there less then decent acts. He nodded nonetheless, desperate and pitiful as he was. The dark haired man grinned.

"Well, step into my office then."

Around an hour later and a deal had been struck. He didn't like what he would have to do. He didn't want to do it. Stealing was one thing, lying, cheating, but he hated to hurt people.

When he got back to his apartment, he felt like he was going to pass out from the sheer disgust he felt with himself. He ran to the bath room, dumping out the contents of yesterday's lunch; that's the last meal he'd had to dump out anyway. He walked to his couch, falling down on it and slumping in self defeat. Figuring that hey, he couldn't get any lower anyway, he pulled out a small plastic bag from his pocket. Before he knew what was happening, he was passed out on the floor, the bag clutched tightly in his hand.

That's how they found him.

* * *

_We've all seen the man at the liquor store beggin' for your change  
The hair on his face is dirty, dreadlocked and full of mange  
He ask the man for what he could spare with shame in his eyes  
Get a job you fuckin' slob's all he replied  
  
God forbid you ever had to walk a mile in his shoes  
'Cause then you really might know what it's like to sing the blues  
Then you really might know what it's like  
Then you really might know what it's like  
Then you really might know what it's like  
Then you really might know what it's like  
  
Mary got pregnant from a kid named Tom who said he was in love  
He said don't worry about a thing baby doll I'm the man you've been dreamin' of  
But three months later he said he won't date her or return her call  
And she sweared god damn if I find that man I'm cuttin' off his balls  
And then she heads for the clinic and she gets some static walkin' through the doors  
They call her a killer, and they call her a sinner, and they call her a whore  
  
God forbid you ever had to walk a mile in her shoes  
'Cause then you really might know what it's like to have to choose  
Then you really might know what it's like  
Then you really might know what it's like  
Then you really might know what it's like  
Then you really might know what it's like  
  
I've seen a rich man beg  
I've seen a good man sin  
I've seen a tough man cry  
I've seen a loser win  
And a sad man grin  
I heard an honest man lie  
I've seen the good side of bad  
And the down side of up  
And everything between  
I licked the silver spoon  
Drank from the golden cup  
Smoked the finest green  
I stroked daddies dimes at least a couple of times  
Before I broke their heart  
You know where it ends  
Yo, it usually depends on where you start  
  
I knew this kid named Max  
He used to get fat stacks out on the corner with drugs  
He liked to hang out late at night  
Liked to get shit faced  
And keep pace with thugs  
Until late one night there was a big gun fight  
Max lost his head  
He pulled out his chrome .45  
Talked some shit  
And wound up dead  
Now his wife and his kids are caught in the midst of all of his pain  
You know it crumbles that way  
At least that's what they say when you play the game  
  
God forbid you ever had to wake up to hear the news  
'Cause then you really might know what it's like to have to lose  
Then you really might know what it's like  
Then you really might know what it's like  
Then you really might know what it's like  
Then you really might know what it's like  
To have to lose..._

What It's Like: Everlast


	2. Bottom of the Bottle

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha, nor do I get anything out of writing this other then twisted kicks.

A/N: Thank you to those who reviewed my last chapter. I got some really good feedback for a first chap, and it just made me feel all warm and cuddly inside. This chapter is not very good, I shall warn you. It's one of those transition chapters, which I hate writing because nothing happens and I have no idea what to do! The next one will be better, I promise. And, as always, if you review, it'll make me happy. And a happy writer is a productive writer.

Miroku- And a productive writer writes.

Very good!

Miroku- And then the productive writer can bear my children…

* * *

The doctor starred at the white haired young man and the woman with him. She gave him a smile, placing her hand on her companions shoulder in an attempt to calm him.

"What in the hell do you mean I have to fill out these forms! Do I look like his fucking mother or something?! I don't even know the damn guy!"

It wasn't working out too well.

"This is what I get for trying to help someone out. A shit load of paper work!"

"Sir, really, it's not that difficult to fill out. And if you have any problems, one of the nurses will be happy to help you…"  
  
"Oh so what, am I stupid now? I can fill out a form thank you very much!" Inuyasha growled at him. "Give me that," he said and snatched the writing pad from his hands.

Kagome smiled weakly at him as her boyfriend walked over to a desk. She sighed heavily, turning her attention back to the doctor after watching Inuyasha growl at the first person who had tried to offer him some assitance.

"Is he…all right?"

"Gomen," she apologized quickly. "He doesn't mean to be like that. He's just rather…"

"God damn it! How the hell am I supposed to write without a pen! Do I look like I have ink shooting from my fingers!"

"…stressed."

"I should say so," the doctor agreed, rubbing his temples. "Perhaps I could write him a prescription to something, just to help him take off the edge."

He ducked, barely dodging a flying pen.

"Stupid twisty tops. This is a hospital, don't you guy's have any clicky pens?"

"Has he stopped smoking recently?"

Kagome winced, shaking her head in the negative. 'He's a really great guy deep down. I just wish he didn't have to be such a jerk in public.'

"Ah well…then…" He trailed off unsurely. "Never mind him then. I was wondering if you could answer some questions about the man you brought in with you today."

She sighed heavily, her exhaustion showing though. "Sure," she answered.

"Do you know anything about him? His name, where he works, anything about someone we could contact?"

"No," she answered, shaking her head. "He lives in the apartment a few door's down from um…" Her gaze drifted to the white haired man who was currently stabbing a counter with a pen, cursing the twisty tops to the lowest depps of Hell. "…Inuyasha's apartment. That's really all I know about him. Well, that and we found him passed out in the middle of the hall at about 3:30."

"Did he have a wallet with him? Anything personal that may have fallen out when the paramedics came to get him?"

Again she shook her head. "I don't think so. The only thing he had with him was that bag he was holding. If you want, I could go back and check."  
  
"No no," he told her. "That's quite all right."

She smiled at him, thankful that she wouldn't have to be driving around Tokyo during rush hour. It had been bad enough trying to follow the ambulence to the hospital without getting lost; Inuyasha's rantings not helping one bit. 'Why can't he just admit that he's a good person and likes to help people instead of beings so…'

"Die you stupid pen! Die!"

'…stubborn.'

The sound of buzzing and harsh lights greeted him as he began blinking his eyes opened. His purple eyes darted from left to right, taking in his surroundings. He was in a room. A very cold, very white room. Glancing down, he noticed that wires and other…_things_ were sticking out of him. He blinked in confusion, trying to recall everything that he could remember.

'Robbed my place of employment…check. Ran from the cops…check. Went to Naraku and got my stuff…check. Nearly OD'd…check.' He graoned in pain a bit, trying his best to sit up. Where was he?

Sleepily, he followed one of the cords in his arms up to a shiny object. He tilted his head to the side, glaring at it. He knew what it was called, but he really couldn't remember at the moment. And besides, what kind of idiot just refers to things as 'the shiny'?

He tilted his head to the other side, taking in the left side of his surroundings. He blinked when he saw a purple fuzzy bunny smoking a ciggerette on one of the tables. He was going to say something, but decided not to. Instead, he lifted his hand and waved, receiving an evil glare and a middle fuzzy finger raised at him. 'How very rude.'

Then the thought hit him.

Now, why in the fuck would a purple fuzzy bunny smoking a ciggerette be in, what he assumed, was his hospital room.

There were only two reasonable explanations. One, he was dead, and went to some freaky deaky twisted sort of Hell, or Two, he was seriously tripping.

"What?" the bunny hissed.

"Um…nothing…" he stuttered.

Tripping. Most definetly tripping.

He starred at the bunny for a few more seconds before a banna was thrown at him.

'That must have been some good shit. I mean…I've never seen purple bunny before…' He cringed then, thinking over his deal with Naraku. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to remind himself that he was really fucked up and he should just stop worrying and enjoy it. But, he couldn't. All he could do was think about the plan, the deal, what he was willing to do and to give up for just one more time.

Why did he keep doing it? Why did he keep going back to that place? Why did he just keep getting himself deeper and deeper into this black hole? One day, he mused silently, maybe someday someone could pull him out. He knew that wouldn't happen of course. How many times he had pushed people away when they had said they wanted to help him. They would give him fake smiles, pat him on the head and tell him that everything would be all right.

How dare they do that? How dare people force false opptomisim on him; giving him the shimmer of hope that somehow he might actually find a way to get out of all of this, only to have it come crashing down on him like shattered glass, realizing for what must have been the hundredth time that all he was was just some charity case; he was just some poor, defensless child that people could smile at and feel like they had done something good. How he wished he could just throw it back in their faces. Make them see that there reassuring smiles and their warm words didn't do anything but make him want to vomit. Maybe that would make them fall of their soap boxes, letting them know that all they did was make the people they were trying to help feel sick with their fakeness.

His heavy sigh filled the room. Oh, fuck his brooding. He'd gotten some good stuff surprisngly, and so for now, he was going to block out any thoughts and all thoughts of having to pay Naraku back; he was just going to sit back and enjoy the high.

The wonderful high, with the not-so-nice bunnies and the talking bed sheets that kept singing show tunes, was short-lived however, when a bustling nurse entered the hospital room. She smiled brightly at him, causing him to close his eyes again and groan. Couldn't people just let him be stoned in peace?

"Good evening," she said happily, walking over to him. With the same wide smile, she palced a hand on his head, forcing it forward. He cired out in shock and a bit of pain as the woman began fluffing the pillows behind his head. When she was finished, she placed her hand on his forhead, pushing him back down. "It looks like you've got a fever," she said with a slight frown.

He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off as a few small pills that he couldn't identify and water was forced down his throat. He coughed loudly, grabbing his neck and rubbing it, feeling as if he was about to choke on the sudden intrusions. The nurse, wide-eyed and apologizing under her breath, hit him on the back as hard as she could, causing him to fall onto his side with a groan of pain.

The woman smiled happily, seeing that she had helped yet another poor hospital patient, then began walking out of the room, humming a jonty tune as she did. He scowled into the pillow. Placing a hand on either side of his head, he lifted himself back up into a sitting position. 'Kami I hate nurses. Don't they know the best way to help is just to leave you alone? I didn't even get a chance to grope her.' He breathed a heavy sigh of annoyance and then laid back down on the bed, trying to get in a comfortable position. He let his eyes begin drifting closed, the colors and shapes around him beginning to blur.

He drifted into a state somewhere between the waking world and his dreams, floating between the fuzzy lines as he blocked out everything else. That was what was so great about this moment; that was why he was willing to give up so much for these simple seconds of bliss. He could forget. Forget pain, death, anger, hurt, hate, lonlieness, and everything else that plagued himself and the world. He could just forget. He could drift out of his battered body, pull away from his torn spirt and just _be_. He was numb, but he was free.

The sound of footsteps and angry yells echoed into his room, barely giving him time to open his eyes before the source of the noise came into the room. He heard someone yelling, being told to calm down, then the sound of a hand connected with a jaw reached him. Instantly, the image of the young girl, Rin he thought her name might have been, being beaten by Naraku flashed through his mind, and his fists clenched in anger. So many times had he wanted to make that man pay for all he did to people. And so many times he had given into that man and so many others, given into anything and everything they told him, if only for his little bit of peace.

"I said I'm not any kind of criminal, you crazy idgit!" he heard a young man scream. The man's white hair hung to his back, and he was wearing a red shirt and baggy red pants, his face contored into a look of anger and annoyance as he continued yelling in a uniformed man's face.

'He looks familiar…wait…I know him. He lives in the apartment near mine. What is he doing here? Maybe…could he have been the one who brought me here?' His head began a dull aching as the man he knew as Inuyasha…or Inutrasha…well…it was Inu _something _continued yelling the nice police officer who, currently, has his hand on the tip of his gun.

"Listen kid," he hissed. "I was just asking you a question. Now, obviously, you don't know who this guy is or what he's dealing with, so I don't have to arrest you. But if you keep it up, I _will _charge you with assult and take you down town, understand?"

"Kid? I ain't no kid. You're just old…"

"Inuyasha!" Kagome yelled, finally getting fed up with her boyfriends attitude. 

He blinked at her, his golden eyes shining with fear. 'Uh-oh.' He tried to give her a smile before she lifted her hand and whacked him over his head. She took him by his ear and began pulling him out of the room, giving the officer a smile of apology as she did. The policeman blinked, shook his head, and turned his attention from the strange couple to the man lying in the bed.

Inwardly, he screamed at his misfortune. On the outside, he gave the dufuss smile that he had perfected over the years, waving a bit. "Why, hello there Officer Donyai Tsume. What a pleasant surprise to see. Tell me, how's the Misses? Still as lovely as ever I assume."

The dark haired officer narrowed his eyes at the younger man as he stepped to the bed. He shook his head at the sight. "Kami, how many times…" He trailed off. "This is the second time I've found you in the hospital in the past four months. Can you tell me why that is?"

A thoughtful look crossed over his face as he scratched the side of his head. "Nope," he said shrugging. "Maybe I'm just accident prone?" he suggested.

"Maybe you're just a druggie who can't get his shit straightened out."

"Well…there's one theory…" he said dryly, scowling at the man.

Tsume sighed again. "Gomen, I didn't mean that," he said. "I read the file. You od'd on that crap this time. Nearly killed yourself. If that Inuyasha guy hadn't have found you, you'd be dead by now. I don't think your father would have wanted this."

He nearly laughed and cried at the same time, shaking his head as a bittersweet smile crossed his lips. "My father? My father didn't give a damn about me."

"Now that's not true," he interrupted, glaring at the man. "Look, he was my partner for nearly ten years, remember? He did care about you, he just had…"

"…trouble showing it." He waved his hand in dismisal. "Yeah yeah, I know." 

An uncomfortable silence fell upon the two aqquantinces. It lasted for many moments, with the officer just staring at him, remembering the boy who he had taught to play kickball, the boy who had groped his wife at just the age of ten, the boy who had thrown his life away because he couldn't see what was just in front of him.

"You know, you could go to prison for a lot longer then a few months this time," he said quietly. "I can't get you off this time. It's your third strike, they'll hold you a lot longer then a few months for posession."

"I'm aware of that," he replied. "You've told me about a million times."

"Then why don't you ever listen? I'm trying to help you, but all you do is push it away."

"I don't need your fucking help!" he cried. "I never _asked _for it. I know you think that you need to do this, need to take care of me so that you can repay your debt to my father for saving your life, but you don't."

He sighed again. "Well if you won't take _my _help, then at least take someone elses."

"I told you I didn't need it," he repeated.

Tsume clenched his fist. "It's simple. You either go to rehab, get some help, turn in all the information you know about the people you've been…working with, or you go to the slammer. That's it; the end. You'll just be locked away. And, I don't think you'd like it there for too long. You're rather pretty."

"Fuck you," he said, narrowing his eyes. "I'm nobody's prison bitch. And I don't think I like these threats, Tsume."

"It's not a threat; it's your only option. You've got until you get out of the hospital, which might be around the next three or four days, depending on how quickly you get over this." He turned on his heel, beginning to head out. He lingered in the doorway for just a moment, turning his attention back to the young man that he had known since he was just a child. "I swear, if your father could see you, your mother, seen what you've become. If they had known just what they were doing to you all those years…they never would have left you. If they had known they were teaching you never to care, ripping you from the inside out by leaving you all alone, they would have taken it all back."

He closed his eyes and shook his head, blocking out the words. Tsume was his father's old partner, just another one of those people who was trying to help him to fulfill their own voids. If in the past, his father had never taken that bullet for him, Tsume would have never even given him a second look. It was sad, almost, knowing that it took his father to give up his own life for it to mean anything to anyone.

'Will my life ever be important to anyone? Not just because they feel like they have to help me because I am unable to, but because they actually care?' He sighed heavily, looking back over at the purple fuzzy bunny who was playing Go Fish with one of the cheap paintings on the wall. 'Doubtfully.'

* * *

_Been scared and lonely  
I've asked myself, is something wrong with you  
My girlfriend told me  
I need some time alone to deal with issues  
But something makes me carry on  
It's difficult to understand  
Why I always wanna fly  
  
I do it for the drugs  
I do it just to feel alive  
I do it for the love  
That I get from the bottom of a bottle  
  
You always call me  
And ask me how I make it through the day  
I'm always falling  
I guess it's just God's way of making me beg  
But something makes me carry on  
It's difficult to understand  
Why I always wanna fly  
  
I do it for the drugs  
I do it just to feel alive  
I do it for the love  
That I get from the bottom of a bottle  
  
I do it for the drugs  
I do it just to feel alive  
I do it for the love  
That I get from the bottom of a bottle  
  
And I, I wonder why I try  
And I, I wonder why I bother  
And I, I wonder why I cry  
Why I, I go through all this trouble  
  
I do it for the drugs  
I do it just to feel alive  
I do it for the love  
That I get from the bottom of a bottle  
  
I do it for the drugs  
I do it just to feel alive  
I do it for the love  
That I get from the bottom of a bottle_


	3. Nowhere Kids

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha, though I know I'd like to.

A/N: I would first like to thank those of you who reviewed the last chapter, you guys rock! I shall be updating once a week, most likely on Mondays. I personally think that this chapter is much better than the last one, but that it is for you to decide. Oh, and I don't think I put it on the last one, but the song 'Bottom of the Bottle' is sung by Smile Empty Soul, and I do not own them.

* * *

Rehab. Short for rehabilitation. He nearly laughed. He was supposed to go and live with some people who were probably crazier then he was, get in a group and talk about his feelings, take some medicine and then, in just a short and painless few months, he would be cured!

It was a load of shit.

He'd been to one of those rehab centers more then once before. He wasn't as helpless as everyone assumed he was. He'd tried to get help, but every time he did, it either turned out that the people weren't even capable of helping him, or that he was just, yet again, another charity case.

And Kami, he hated those places. All the people in their clean scrubs, smiling happily or glaring at you for being a burden every time you asked for an extra blanket. It was as if they only worked at those places, volunteered at shelters, so they could make themselves feel good; so that they could hold their head up higher, because they were superior to those whom they were _helping_.

They all made him feel like he was a lower being, someone who was lucky to even be in their shadow. He closed his eyes, silently wishing that he hadn't done all the stuff in one sitting. Maybe, subconsciously, he had been trying to kill himself. 'Would have done some people a favor if I had.' At least, if he was dead, he wouldn't have to be going into this center. And he wouldn't have to try and escape either. He knew there was no way he could stay there. Even if those places _didn't _make him feel like he was some circus freak, he still would have had to get out of there. He did have a promise to Naraku to keep.

"Turn that radio down Inuyasha," Kagome said, hitting the man in the shoulder.

"Ouch!" he said glaring at her.

She sighed, clicking the radio off. "I'm sure he's still really tired. He doesn't need blasting music giving him a migraine."

"It's soothing," the white haired man said.

"Soothing?" she scoffed. "Tell me, Inuyasha, what is soothing about three guy's who sing about drugs, sex, violence, and say the words 'ho', 'mama', and 'booty' in every other sentence?"

After a few moments of silence, he answered, "Lots of things."

She tilted her head to the side, looking at the brown haired man who was sitting in the back seat of the piece of junk metal her boyfriend called a car. He was starring out the window, his face looking impassive. His eyes were swimming with emotions, many of which she couldn't place. She tried to smile at him. He looked at her for a moment, his eyes lingering on her face before turning back out the window, keeping back a snort of disgust. 'She feels sorry for me.'

"We'll be there in a little while," Kagome said, attempting conversation for the fourth time since their trip had begun. Since he had been the one to find him, Inuyasha had been asked to escort him to the Rehabilitation Center. The policeman that had came to visit him in the hospital earlier in the week had offered, but he had refused quickly. She wondered how he knew the officer, and why he apparently had such a problem with him, but she decided it was none of her business.

"Leave him alone. Can't you see the guy doesn't want to talk?"

"I'm just trying to make him feel a little more comfortable. You could try being friendly you know."

"Keh. I'm always friendly." 

'Do these two ever shut up?' He watched the bickering couple, silently glad that he hadn't tried to do anything to the woman when she had been helping him to the car. He probably would have been put right back in that hospital by the man she was with. He had seen him around a few times. Heard him cursing his TV and other inanimate objects around the apartment building. He seemed like an…interesting fellow. Though, he'd never really had the desire to know him personally. 'Oh well. At least Tsume didn't take me.' He didn't think he would have been able to get through it without screaming. He didn't really know why, but he hated that man. Even though he was always trying to be so nice to him, he could see it was fake. He supposed he would always blame him for his father's death. He nearly groaned. 'Oh damn it, I'm probably going to have to go to group therapy to.'

He wanted to scream, bang his head against the window, throw the door open and jump out of the speeding car. This Inuyasha guy drove like a maniac, so he would probably be dead on contact. He contemplated this for a moment. The picture of him, falling out of the car, his head making contact with the warm concrete, his blood spilling around him. Would anyone cry for him?

'There you go, feeling sorry for yourself again. Damn it, you are so weak. And now look at you. Going to go into that place again, where all they'll do is look at you and shake their heads. They hate you, you know. You're just a burden to them. An inconvenience. No use to anyone really. You would have been better off if he didn't find you. At least then you wouldn't have to go through with it; you wouldn't have to be brooding over it every fucking second.'

He hoped they would get to the Hellhole soon. The faster they got there, the faster he could get out. The faster he could get it all over with. He closed his eyes, holding back tears that threatened to spill. 'You agreed to do it. Or, do you not remember how desperate you were? How you were willing to do _anything _for some more. How you were willing to pretend to be anyone, take anyone's position, spill anyone's blood for just a little discount?'

He opened his eyes again, starring out at the buildings they passed, watching as the evening sunlight played on the tops of the tall buildings. He had been willing to do anything, but he hadn't meant it. He suddenly chuckled softly. 'I really do need help.' His eyes lingered on one of the office buildings. He wondered if maybe he could have worked there. If things had been different, if he hadn't gotten into drugs when he was only fifteen, if he hadn't been moved in and out of foster homes, if he hadn't hidden away from the world, maybe he would be working in one of those places. He could see it now. He was in a business suit, sitting in the highest floor of the tallest building, making a sleazy deal with a client as he snuck a look up his secretary's skirt.

Ah, how tempting the high life seemed it at this moment. High life. It was funny, because he did lead a high life, where he was literally high. Get it? Oh…fuck it. He thought it was funny.

Inuyasha raised up a bit, looking at the man in the back seat of his car. 'What's he laughing about?' Suddenly, the mental image of the man pulling an ax from his baggy purple pants pockets and hacking himself and Kagome into little pieces flashing through his mind. "No! You crazy psycho bastard! You will _not _get blood over my car. It's brand new leather!"

The other two occupants of the car starred at the white haired man blankly, blinking at him in utter confusion. He opened his mouth to speak, but decided against it. Kagome simply laughed nervously.

"Oh, don't be worried, he's not really crazy or anything, he's just over-stressed!" she said, her voice high pitched, causing him to wince a bit.

"What the hell…" Inuyasha began, then trailed off, his gaze going back to the man who was blinking at him. He smiled a bit. "Um…what she said." Muttering a curse under his breath, he stepped even harder on the gas pedal, causing the other two to cry out in shock as he dodged a car.

His eyes widened, clutching to the side of the car for deal life. This guy was crazy. He was going to kill them all. 'Ah well, at least I had a full life.' He cringed at his bitter thought, then turned his attention back outside the window, once again indulging himself in his fantasy of being rich, powerful, famous, and living the high life.

There was irony.

That's what made it funny.

He sighed. He'd always been told he had a twisted sense of humor.

Finally they arrived at the center. It was exactly how he remembered it. Clean, white, cold, empty. There were some people on the outside, some sitting around the gardens, other's just starring out past the gates, looking as if maybe they would be able to blow it away with just the power of their minds.

'Good luck guys.' And maybe if it worked, he could have a chance of getting out too. As instructed, Inuyasha and Kagome escorted him inside, making sure that he got signed it. They said goodbye to him; actually, Kagome said goodbye, smiling and hugging him tightly, telling him they would come back to visit and make sure he was all right. Inuyasha just sort of stood back, looking around, scanning as if he was searching for someone he knew

The two left, and for that he was thankful. The last thing he needed in this place were two more people trying to help him on his way to recovery. The woman at the check-in desk stared at him, her blue eyes emotionless as she handed him a small slip of paper. On it was his room number and a schedule of events. He smiled and her and nodded his head in thanks. She simply starred ahead of him, starring past him. He turned away, grabbing his pathetically small bag of belongings as he begin walking. What did he expect? No one ever looked at the trash.

He walked around, desperately looking for the hall that he was supposed to go down to reach his room. He had no sense of direction, and apparently lacked the common sense to find the third hall to the left from the bathroom door. He frowned and scanned his eyes across the lobby.

There was a group of people sitting near a large bay window, playing a card game, another group huddled around them in excitement.

The gamblers.

A few men and women were leaning on one of the walls, watching as a black haired man pounded angrily on the pop machine, cursing every type of carbonated drink under the sun, the rest of them just shaking their heads.

The alcoholics.

Another group, around five people, were just standing around, looking rather dazed and depressed, glaring at those who walked by them, whispering to one another suspiciously.

The potheads.

A man was sitting, blinking at the television screen, sighing heavily as the woman next to him kept flicking the channels. About four other people sat on the floor in front of the green couch, each of them mumbling something.

The cocaine, harrowin, methanphedomine, ecstasy, and any other drug under the sun doers.

Ah, his people.

He began walking over to them, going to ask if any of them would possibly be able to help a fellow captive in his quest to find his room. He cursed himself for mentally labeling all of the people who had surrounded him. Instead of going to them, he just stood standing like an idiot, looking around like a lost puppy. He didn't want to talk to anyone, he didn't want to be here. He felt sick again. He just wanted to be back in that little café, smiling at the people and then secretly spitting in their coffee for whispering about him behind his back.

A young woman walked briskly past him. She was dressed in blue scrubs. Assuming naturally that she worked there, he stepped in front of her, reaching for her arm.

"Excuse me," he said.

She quickly pulled away from him, turning her head and narrowing cold eyes at him. "What?" she questioned.

'Sorry to inconvenience you.' His lost look turned into a bitter glare and he shook his head. "Nothing," he said. "I'm fine, great, wonderful, don't need help at all. Besides, it's not like it's your _job _to help me anyway," he said sarcastically, a fake smile twitching his lips upward.

The woman pressed her lips into a thin line. "Listen," she said, her voice obviously annoyed. "I've got things to do. I'm sure someone else can help you."

Before he even got the chance to cuss her out, she had already turned on her heel and walked away from him.

He tried the same approach with the next three people that walked by him, all of them coincidentally being much to busy to help him find his room. He felt ashamed, not being able to find his own damn room. But then again, why should he be beating himself up? Lazy ass bastards; making him feel guilty because they weren't feeling exactly generous to those who were less fortunate then them.

Taking a deep breath, he promised himself that he would punch the next person in a uniform. His eyes narrowed at a couple who were walking towards them, both in scrubs. He clenched his fist, cracking his knuckles, then began walking towards the two people, ready to give them both broken noses if they didn't help him find a room.

"Excuse me, sir?"

The sound of a voice behind him made him stop. He turned, more then slightly annoyed. His gaze softened when he saw who had spoken. It was a woman, around her twenties he guessed. She had long dark hair which was pulled back in a low pony tail. The top of her scrubs was pink, and the bottom was green, accenting her, as he quickly noticed, very nice figure. 'She is going to bear my children.'

She smiled softly at him, blushing just the slightest under his intense gaze. 'Oh great. Another pervert.' She watched his facial expression, seeing his scowl turn into a charming smile.

"Are you looking for your room?" she questioned, still smiling kindly.

He nodded. "Why yes," he told her.

She reached out, gently taking the small scrap of paper from his hand and scanning it over. She clenched the back of her teeth together and a small, annoyed sigh escaped her pale lips. For a moment he wondered if she was upset because he couldn't find his room like all the other's had been. He hoped not. She was really to beautiful to punch in the face.

"No one else would help you would they?"

Startled by the soft spoken question, he gave her a small nod in reply. She just shook her head. 'Kami, sometimes I think I'm the only who actually works in this place. Besides me and a handful of other people, everyone else is completely useless.'

"Come with me," she said smiling. "I'll show you where it is."

He blinked at her. Was she being…nice? Even friendly? Impossible. The people who worked at these kinds of places could care less about him then the rest of the population. Why should this woman be any different? 'Maybe…maybe she is.'

He could have slapped himself right then. All it took was a pretty face, soft words, and not to mention a very nice body, and he could find hope in the world again. He was to soft; to easily swayed, especially by a beautiful young woman.

Noticing that she had already begun to walk down the hall, he quickly grabbed his tiny bag and jogged to catch up with her. The silence of walking down the hall unnerved him a bit, but it also caused his thoughts to focus a bit on the woman he was following. The echo of her footsteps wasn't ringing in his ears, and he realized it was because she was taking such soft, slow steps. She was walking casually, her hands down at her sides, her body relaxed. She wasn't lifting up her feet like she was ready to bolt off as soon as he found his room. It was funny; she wasn't acting like he was diseased.

After a few moments, they came to a door with his room number next to it. He was about to reach out and open it, but found the woman's hand already on the knob, turning it and swinging the door open for him. He starred at her, his mouth hanging slightly ajar. She just opened a door for him. The gesture was so small, laughably unimportant, but to him, it made his world stop for just a half-second. Someone, another human being, of the opposite sex no less, was opening a door for him. She was talking to him; not at him.

"Here you are," she said. "It's not much. You have a twin-sized bed, there's your dresser, and a table where you can play cards or something with your roommate. The TV is in the wreck room, sorry you don't get your own. Sometimes people like to argue about what channel to put it on but I'm sure you'll get used to it."

He took a few small steps into the room, surveying it quickly. The walls were white, the floor was white, the beds were white; he was in so much white it made his head spin. He hated white. It was so annoying that everyone always painted places that color. The image of his cramped hospital room flashed through his mind and he shuddered.

"Are you all right?" she asked him, noticing his sudden change in facial expressions. 

He turned to her, his purple eyes showing no trace of the surprise he was feeling that she actually asked him if he was okay. "Fine. It's just…I hate white."

She laughed softly. "A lot of the…patients dislike it," she said, speaking the word patient quietly, feeling almost guilty for using it. "I don't really think it's that bad."

"It is," he said softly, sighing as he dropped his bag on the floor. "It's annoying. The complete absence of color, like your surrounded by some type of void." He touched the wall, tapping a finger on it and clucking his tongue. "Makes you feel like you have to take a hundred showers to be worthy to step in here, it's so damn clean; their only reminding us of how dirty we are."

She blinked a bit, a soft gasp of surprise escaping her lips. For someone who she had first labeled a perv, he was acting surprisingly deep. And sad. Sympathy fled into her gaze, and she wondered if maybe she could get him some kind of poster or something; they really did need color in the room.

He met her eyes, disappointment filling him as he saw her look of pity. 'Just when I had hope that someone was actually going to care. Stupid me.'

"If you need anything," she began, "don't hesitate to ask."

With one final, real smile, something that still surprised him even though her face showed a look of sympathy for the poor bum he was, she turned to leave. He stared at the door for a few moments after she had gone, just blinking. 'Strange woman. She actually seemed like she cared. But…then she looked at me like…' Shaking his head, he walked over to the bed, letting himself fall face first into the pillows. 'It doesn't matter anyway. She's probably just the same as everyone else here. Besides…I'll have to get out of here soon anyway…if I want to pay Naraku back.'

* * *

_In the land of dirt and plaster  
Lies an army of a thousand nowhere kids  
Losing ground and falling faster  
Into a life that no one should have to live  
  
We are the people that you hate  
We are the bastards that you created  
(The fucking bastards that you created)  
A generation with no place  
A generation of all your sons and daughters  
  
Behind the fake family image  
Behind the smile of a thousand moms and dads  
Inside the cage that we've been given  
I see an image of the future that we don't have  
  
We are the people that you hate  
We are the bastards that you created  
(The fucking bastards that you created)  
A generation with no place  
A generation of all your sons and daughters  
  
And what did you expect - a perfect child  
Raised by TV sets - abandoned every mile  
We never get respect - never a fair trial  
No one gives a shit - as long as we smile_

Nowhere Kids: Smile Empty Soul


	4. Therapy

Disclaimer: I know nothing, I own nothing, I only do what the voices in my head tell me.

A/N: I would like to thank everyone who reviewed. A special thanks to Dinni who's comment made me blush to high Heavens. I read your poem on your bio and it was soo great! And, to Ikhny87, I'm a girl, so err, sorry. But I'm glad you like the story! If you can't tell I'm smiling and waving like an idiot, but since this formatting crap sucks, it won't let me put stars! Now I'm grumbling about the unfairness of it all.

* * *

He sighed heavily, staring up at the cracks on the ceiling. Groaning softly to himself he stood up, taking his bag with him and walked over to the wooden dresser. He opened the top drawer and peered inside, frowning when he saw stacks of white clothing. He lifted his hand to pick up one of what appeared to be shirts, but looking down at his grimy palms, he decided that might not be the best idea. He really did hate white.

Placing his hand on the top of his dark pants, he began rubbing his palm on the fabric furiously, trying to get rid of as much dirt as he could so that he would not leave any incriminating evidence. Lifting his hand again, he inwardly nodded with approval and once again reached into the drawer. He pulled out a t-shirt and scanned it up and down. It was probably a size larger then what he wore, so any thoughts of borrowing his roommates clothing were out of the question. Not that he'd thought about that. How low would a person have to be to think about stealing…borrowing…clothes from people they'd never even met? Probably as low as him.

He attempted to fold the shirt, but failed miserably. Muttering a profanity he placed the shirt back in the drawer and shut it. He opened the next drawer, only to see it was filled with white pants. 'You've got to be kidding me. Oh Kami, please don't tell me I'm living with some psycho who only wears white.' He kneeled down a bit in order to get to third drawer. A load groan filled the room as he saw that this drawer, too, was completely full. Though, not with white shirts or pants. It was filled with several different styles of boxers. Blue, yellow, red, green…those moose from Brother Bear? What the hell? With a sort of startled gasp he quickly shut it.

Reaching the fourth and final drawer, he carefully opened it, making sure that it was empty. Sighing with relief, he opened his bag and proceeded to dump it's contents into the empty drawer. With a small, self-satisfied smile, he began to shut it, only to find that it wouldn't close completely. He shrugged, the fact not bothering him. He hoped that his roommate wasn't some type of neat-freak.

He stood up again and stretched his arms over his head, slightly relaxing as he felt his tense back muscles popping. The door swung open, causing him to snap his attention towards the entrance of his room. In the entry stood a man completely dressed in white, with long silver hair pulled back into a pony tail. At first, he thought it was one of the orderlies and was prepared to throw a pillow at whomever it was who was going to disrupt his 'me-time'. He watched as the man shut the door and slowly stepped inside the room. The unknown man looked at him, his golden eyes staring at him impassively before he turned on his heel and flopped down on the bed opposite his own. Standing for a few moments, he just blinked at the silver haired man, waiting for him to do something. A minute passed and the man had said nothing. Taking it as a sign that he was supposed to be the one to break the ice, he approached the man cautiously.

Unsure of what to do, he stood above him. The man didn't move, only laid still, his eyes fixated on the wall. "Hey," he said finally. He received no answer, only a kind of grunt, which he assumed meant hello. Content with this form of speech, he went to sit on the edge of his own bed. "So…I guess we're roommates." There was another grunt, one which he took as a sort of yes. "What's your name?" He wondered if the man was actually going to answer this question, or if he was just going to reply with another wordless grunt. He hoped not. Suppose he had to speak to this man in the hallway. The image of himself, standing in the hallway, jumping up and down as he waved his hand, grunting as he did so, wasn't very appealing.

"Did they not tell you who you would be rooming with?" the man questioned.

The sound of him speaking surprised him, and he nearly fell to the floor. Quickly gripping the sheets -the damned _white _sheets- he steadied himself. "No," he answered. "Actually, no one told me much of anything," he said with a frown, remembering the nurses who passed him by with not so much as a glance.

"Sesshomaru," he answered.

He nodded, then stopped, the name sounding very familiar, and yet very not. Where could he have heard it before? One of Naraku's messenger boys, maybe a client? No. A waiter at the restaurant, or maybe someone whom he had waited on before? No. Then, suddenly, a memory came back to him.

Ah…bastard! Why did you have to do that? Use a coaster! Damn it Sesshomaru, you fluffy fucker!

Ah yes, that was it. He furrowed his brow. The silver hair, the golden eyes, the obvious attitude problem, though this Sesshomaru didn't seem to be as angry as the other.

"Do you know anyone named…Inuyasha?" he questioned.

The man turned to him then, his face a stoic mask as he sat up. "Yes," he answered slowly after a few moments. "Why?"

"Oh uh, no reason. I was just wondering. You kind of reminded me of him." Upon hearing the sort of growling that the other man made, he quickly took back his comment. "I mean, looked like him, a little."

"I look nothing like the mutt," he hissed.

He blinked for a few moments. Staring in confusion, he watched as Sesshomaru turned back over on his side. A small smile tugged his lips upwards, and he tried to contain his laughter. Eventually, he fell over on the bed and buried his face into the pillow. The silver haired man turned back over to stare at him, his eyebrow twitching in annoyance.

"And what, prey tell, do you find so funny?" 

He giggled, not being able to hold it back any longer. "You're Inuyasha's brother," he said as he sat up.

Narrowing his golden eyes, Sesshomaru asked, "So?"

"It's just…" he began, laughing softly. "You…well…"

"What?" he growled, quickly losing patience with his new roommate.

With a soft smile, he gazed up, his purple eyes locking with gold. "Why does he call you Fluffy?"

And all Hell broke loose in room 279 of the Sunny Pines Rehabilitation Center.

----

A buzzing sound entered his ears, floating around his mind, causing him to open his eyes a bit. He tilted his head a bit, looking up to see a black alarm clock on the dresser. A song drifted through the air, filling up the room with an annoyingly happy 80's song. Narrowing his purple eyes at the object, he placed his hand on top of it and, making sure he had a firm enough grip, proceeded to pull the alarm clock out of the wall. Sighing with his content, he plopped back down on the bed and buried his face in the pillows, intent on catching up with some much needed beauty sleep.

"Morning sleeping beauty," someone said from above him.

He groaned into the pillows beneath him and slowly turned over on his side. Squinting his dark eyes, he made out the figure of a woman dressed in white, her long silver hair spilling out past her shoulders. 'Am I dreaming? Why would such a lovely woman be waking me up?'

"Get up!"

Surprised by the woman's not-so-womanly yell he fell out of the bed, hitting his forehead on the side of the table. Cursing underneath his breath he placed his hand on his head and glared up at the person who had woken him.

"Was that completely nessacary?" he questioned as he rubbed his temples. Staggering a bit, he lifted himself back to the bed.

Sesshomaru stared down at him, unblinking and uncaring that he appeared to be injured. "Breakfast," he said simply.

He turned to the other man, hiding his laughter of first mistaking him for a woman. "In bed?" he questioned with a small smile. "Oh honey, you shouldn't have."

The silver haired man sighed in annoyance and turned to walk out the door. He tossed a glance back at him, speaking loudly so he would gain his attention. "You should be there. If you're not, you'll get a demerit."

"Demerit?" he questioned. "What is this, grade school? They don't really give us demerits."

"They do, they have, they will."

Still rubbing his head he watched Sesshomaru disappear through the doorway. 'That guy is creepy.' At this decision he shrugged, happy that at least he didn't have to share a room with some crazy guy like he'd had to last time he was at one of these places. He stood up, yawning and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, and walked over to the mirror which hung above the dresser. There were dark circles underneath his eyes -as well as a bruise from where Sesshomaru had hit him; apparently he really disliked being called Fluffy- and his skin was paler then usual, making him look more like a walking corpse then just a sleep-deprived druggie. But hey, what was really the difference? If he did look dead, then he looked exactly like he felt.

He ran a hand through his hair and then decided screw it. It's not as if he was trying to impress anyone. He was going to have to a find a way out of here soon anyway. After brushing his teeth and throwing on a new shirt and boxers he headed out the door. He wandered around the hall for five minutes, still lost in the just-woke-up-at-six-in-the-morning daze. When he finally reached the cafeteria, he was ready to pass back out in his bowl of Cheerios.

But, of course, he was in rehab he reminded himself. They weren't good enough for Cheerios. Not the real kind, anyway. The cheap kind that came in bags, the ones that didn't have any sugar on them and were too stale to eat anyway, that was what they got. Sort of like him he mused idly. 'How pathetic can you get? You're comparing yourself to old cereal now. Not even the kind with a brand name. You haven't been in this place one full day and already it's fucking with your brain. What you have left of it anyway.'

Poking his cereal with his spoon, he decided to screw that too and pushed it away, instead letting his forehead hit the cool surface of the table. Though, re-thinking it, maybe he should have left the bowl where it was. After all, then maybe he would have fallen asleep. Drowning in the cereal, so much more of a dignifying way to die then jumping out of a speeding car.

"You should really try eating that."

At first he thought it might have been Sesshomaru again, and he was prepared to pay him back for some of the hits he'd taken last night when he'd been too tired to hit back. When he lifted his head he saw the woman again. She was wearing a different pair of scrubs this time, the colors still pink and green, which he believed was a very unusual combination, but what was he, a fashion critic? She smiled at him in an almost sickeningly sweet way, making him glad he hadn't eaten his breakfast, or else the contents would have probably left him anyway.

"Not hungry," he said gruffly.

She sat down by him, her smile fading just a bit, looking a fraction more genuine. "I can understand why," she said, looking at the bowl and wrinkling her nose. "I hear lunch is supposed to be better though."

"What are we having?" he questioned.

"Chicken," she answered smiling. He stared at her for a few moments, his expression blank before he allowed his head to drop to the table again. She sighed a little. 'This one is going to be harder then he looks.' A feeling of determination settled in her, causing her to smile a bit. She could tell by the looks of him, when she had first seen him wandering in the halls, that all he really needed was someone to care. "So…" she began, attempting to get him into a conversation. "You're first group therapy session today. Did Sesshomaru tell you about it?"

He lifted his head again to look her in the eyes. Upon seeing she was actually serious he raised his eyebrow. "Um, no. He's not exactly Mr. Talkative."

She laughed quietly, her smile widening. "No, he's not. Well, it's not really as bad as you might think." He continued staring at her, his expression blank as he blinked once or twice. She sighed again in defeat. "Okay, so it's bad."

"How bad exactly?" he questioned. He'd been to them before, but of course he'd been stoned so many times since then, his brain cells weren't exactly working correctly.

"Really bad," she admitted. "But it does help. After awhile, I think you'll start to like it. After a few weeks, even Sesshomaru started to open up."

'Sesshomaru? Opening up?' Now there was a scary thought. She smiled at him and patted his shoulder. He tensed immediately, and had he been awake enough, he probably would have quickly flinched away. She noticed his uneasiness and frowned a bit. 'I hope I'll be able to help him eventually.'

----

He stared around the room, his eyes lingering on each face for only a few seconds before he looked to another person.

"I see we have a new face with us today," Dr. -and he used that term lightly- Takahashi said, his bright smile plastered to his face much as it was every day. He nodded towards him. Not feeling up to starting this little meet and greet, he just raised his hand in a small wave. A few others waved back to him with excitement. "Well, who would like to start?" The doctor nodded towards the silver haired man, who begrudgingly began to stand.

"Hello, my name is Sesshomaru."

"Hello Sesshomaru!"

Stifling a giggle as he watched the other man's eyebrow twitch at the shrill chorus of voices that greeted him, he quickly quieted and listened for him to continue.

"And I am here because I have an addiction to pain killers."

As he took his seat, the rest of the group began clapping, and a few whistles from some of the female occupants filled the room. He simply stared impassively at them and went back to glaring at the 'sharing rug' which was on the floor.

"And, why do you think you have this addiction Sesshomaru?" Dr. Takahashi questioned.

Narrowing his golden eyes, he simply questioned, "Have you met my brother?"

Ignoring the question and, scowling at the silver haired man, he moved on to the others in the room. Finally he came to him, much to his dismay. With a smile, the elderly "doctor" -again, using the term, very, very lightly- encouraged him to stand.

"Hi," he said slowly as he stood up. "My name is Jerry Lewis."

"Hi Jerry!"

"I am here because my addiction to pixie sticks has made me a danger to society."

A few gasps of disbelief, snickers, and giggles erupted from the circle. Sesshomaru just shook his head as a ghost of a smirk appeared on his lips. Fuming, Dr. Takahashi stood up, grabbing him by the shoulder and dragging him out of the room.

"Hey!" he yelled trying to pull away from the doctor. "Let go of me you psycho. Get your damn hands off of me!" Just as he was about to yell another protest he was grabbed roughly by the collar and pushed into the wall. He winced in pain as the doorknob hit his back. "What the hell is your problem?" he nearly growled.

"You are," the doctor replied, narrowing his eyes in an almost threatening way. He stood up straighter, taking in a deep breath. "Do you think your funny kid? You're not here to make jokes."

"Then what am I here for, huh, old man?" he questioned.

Clenching the back of his teeth together the man raised his hand as if he was going to hit him. Smirking a bit as he winced he lowered his arm, instead grasping his chin and forcing him to look into his eyes.

"To get some help," he said, his voice dripping with sweetness that made him cringe. Releasing his chin, the doctor lightly hit his face. With a smirk, he hit him a bit harder, leaving a stinging sensation and a slight redness on his pale skin. "Now, I expect a serious attitude. I'm helping you here, and I don't need any more problems."

Dr. Takahashi turned on his heel and headed back into the therapy room, muttering about difficult druggies underneath his breath. As soon as the doctor had shut the door he turned and slammed his fist into the wall, cursing angrily as he pulled a bloodied knuckle back to him.

'Damn bastard. I knew this place wouldn't be any different. Why'd I let myself think that maybe…maybe this time…'

As soon as she saw he and Dr. Takahashi in the hall, alarm bells began to ring in her mind. 'What's that crazy doctor going to do now?' She began walking towards them, breaking into a run when it looked as if the elder man was about to strike the other. 'If he lays one hand on him I'll slap him all the way to the Feudal Era.' Calming herself, she watched the doctor head back into the room. She watched him for a little bit longer, wincing as he hit the wall, before she cautiously approached him.

The sound of footsteps caused him to whirl around, only to have him come face to face with that woman he had seen the day earlier and at breakfast. 'What is she doing here?' For a while the two just stared at each other, neither wishing to say anything.

"Did you…want something?" he questioned, trying to keep himself calm. 'I could at least try to be nice to her. After all, she's one of the only people I've ever met who isn't treating me like some worthless garbage.'

She nodded a bit, then leaned back on her heels, peering through the small window into the room of patients. "Actually," she said with a soft smile. Walking towards him, she gently wrapped her arm in his. Stunned, he could only gap at her as she began leading him down one of the halls. "I was wondering if maybe you would like to enter a different kind of therapy?"

He just stared at her, not really knowing what to say. 'This could be interesting.' With a sly, perverted smile, his hand slid from her arm to other areas of her body.

"I think I would like that very much."

Slap.

"Not that way you pervert," she told him, straightening the top of her scrubs. Holding his stinging cheek, he watched in confusion and slight amazement as she once again gave him a warm smile. "Now, if you'll follow me, I think we'll need to have a talk with Mrs. Kurosawa."

* * *

_Too many weeds in the flowers  
Too many pills in the pharmacy now  
Too many bugs in the shower  
There's too much shit in the air we breathe now  
  
There's too much anger inside me  
There's too much scarring when I bleed  
There's too much therapy I need  
There is no God that I have seen  
  
There's too much doubt in my mom's words  
There's too much fear in the way she sees life  
I wonder if I'm just like her  
I wonder if I can make myself right   
  
You try to help   
You listen well  
You cannot change the way I see _

Therapy: (drum roll please) Smile Empty Soul


	5. All My Problems

Disclaimer: Yeah yeah, if I owned Inuyasha Sango and Miroku would already be together, Kikyo would be dead, and it would be mandatory for all bishounens to do all of their scenes shirtless. Err…yeah.

A/N: Whoo, chapter 5. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, you all are so awesome! I'm on a roll. For those of you who haven't realized the pattern yet, I refer to the two main characters as 'he' and 'she'. Don't ask why, I'm just doing it. This whole story is rather odd anyway, if you ask me. Well, a bit of a plot made its way into these chapters, though I've no idea how. Time to find out what Sango was talking about in the last chapter eh?

Miroku- Nah. Let's make 'em sweat it out. Kukukuku!

You've been drinking with Naraku again, haven't you?

Miroku-…no.

* * *

"I don't believe I heard you right," said Yumi Kurosawa, the head of the Sunny Pines therapy department. "You want to do what for this young man?"

Giving a fake smile to match Yumi's own, she sighed. "I said," she began slowly, causing the older woman to frown. "I believe that he is a special case. And, since he is, I think he might need a special kind of program to help him," she said, making sure she spoke loudly and slowly, almost as if speaking to a toddler.

The woman narrowed her brown eyes and tucked a strand of gray hair behind her ear. "Yes well, no matter how _special _you believe he is, it is not your decision as to whether or not he is placed in a different kind of program. I'm sorry, but I will have to deny this request of yours."

"But-" she began, only to have a hand raised, signaling that this was the end of the discussion and that she was to leave. 'I'm not giving up that easily, 'ya old woman.' Standing up she leaned forward, bracing her small hands on either side of the desk, causing Yumi to look up at the younger woman. "Dr. Takahashi, no offense to him and his methods, has no idea what in the hell he is doing."

"I'll have you know that Dr. Takahashi is very well respected, and he certainly has more experience than you do," she hissed.

"It doesn't matter how well respected he is, he doesn't get a damn about any of these people and you know it!"

"And I suppose you do?" she questioned, raising a penciled on eyebrow.

Clenching a fist at her side, she took in a deep breath. "Yes," she answered truthfully. "I do."

Yumi watched as she sat back down in the leather chair, making sure to keep her gaze level and unwavering. "And why is that?" the gray haired woman asked. "You know, sometimes I don't understand you. You walk around, holding your head up high like your better then everyone else here, and yet you treat those thugs and criminals like they were your equal. It's a disgrace."

"They _are _my equal," she said, quickly cutting the older woman off in her rant. "Their not just patients, Kurosawa, don't you get it? They are _people_. They've got real hearts, real feelings, real problems and we can help them. When my father was alive, that used to mean something to the people here."

Clicking her tongue in annoyance, she leaned forward, placing her arm over her desk and watching the younger woman before speaking again. "When your father was alive, a lot of things were different. Things change, _people _change, and either you get used to it and adapt, or your just going to be thrown away like the people who end up here. I don't think you would like to end up a piece of filth?"

She clutched the sides of the chair, her knuckles becoming white as her grip tightened even more. "How can you say that about those people?" she asked quietly.

"Because that's what they are. They are the filth and we clean it up, that's the way it works. You've seem to have forgotten that. Tell me, are you still living in that fantasy world of yours where you think you can make a difference?"

"I can," she said.

Yumi laughed harshly, shaking her head. "No you can't. The best you can do is offer them a smile and a shoulder to cry on, and soon their not even satisfied with that. Just look at you," the woman said, her voice becoming a bit louder. "You could have become so much more. Sometimes I think your just as bad as them out there."

"Oh come off of it," she whispered, shaking her head angrily and narrowing her eyes. "We both know what this is about." Taking a deep breath, she met the older woman's gaze. "You've lost your faith in everything, and so you're taking it out on the only people who have some left."

Before Yumi could retort, Dr. Takahashi stormed in the office, quickly slamming the door shut and taking a seat in the chair opposite hers.

The older woman smiled at him, her eyes lingering on the other woman for a moment before turning to the man. "Ah, Dr. Takahashi, would you please explain to our little Miss. Crusader for all that is good and innocent why we do not allow our nurses to personally run a program for any patients?"

Narrowing his eyes, the older man turned to her, barely staring at her for more then two seconds before looking back at Yumi. "Well, as far as I'm concerned, she can have anyone in my group. Especially that freaky guy with the silver hair. I swear, I haven't seen him blink since he first come here. Not once, not one damn time have I seen that man close his eyes."

Mrs. Kurosawa simply shook her head, placing her hand on her forehead and attempting to rub out the migraine that was beginning to spread. She turned around in her chair, a smile playing on her lips as she faced the older man.

"Really? You don't say?"

"I swear it. Never once…"

"I mean," she said, trying to give him a charming smile. "I could have anyone in your group?"

He blinked at her. Then, shrugging his shoulders and letting out a sigh, he replied, "I don't care. Hey, as long as it's one less person _I've_ got to deal with. Especially if it's that little wise ass I just got in today."

A jolt of anger went through her, causing her sweet façade to drop for a moment. "And this, new patient," she began, "does he have really light skin, a bruise…"

"Short brown hair, purple clothes, goes by the name of Jerry?" he questioned irritably.

Her mouth hung slightly ajar and she blinked, tilting her heed to the side and staring at the doctor. "Um…yes?" she answered, the reply almost sounding like a question itself.

"He's all yours."

----

She walked to the cafeteria quickly, eager to catch up with 'Jerry' as Dr. Takahashi had called him and let him in on the good news. Somewhere, deep her in stomach, she felt a twinge of guilt. She knew this had to be right. She was not going to just sit back and watch the people at this center -the people who were supposed to be helping and giving everything they had for the good of others- break this man even more. When she had first seen him, he'd had a look in his eyes, almost like after everything that he had undoubtedly been through, somewhere deep inside of him, he was still alive. She couldn't allow someone like that to be pushed back into whatever world of darkness he'd been consumed by before.

She knew all this, and yet still, she felt as if she was treating him like a science experiment, something less than human, something that she hated herself for. It was true, no one, especially no one at her place of work, ever offered to take on one of the patients full time. It was something about the man, the way he had stood in his room and so calmly spoken to her, like an actual human being, that had drawn her to him. The sadness that had seemed to hang around him, the despair and guilt that was weighing down his shoulders when she had first seen him, made her feel the need to help him.

Sighing, she stopped for a moment, gently resting her back against the wall. 'I know what I'm doing is right, but am I doing it for the right reasons? What if Kurosawa was right, what if there's really nothing I can do? Besides, what even makes me think he'll take my help? He'll probably just think that I'm another one of those fake people who only want to help him to feel better about themselves.' She let her eyes drift close, trying to think clearly. 'What if I am? Could I just be using him in order to replace…no. Kami, I've been here three years, but I feel like I haven't done anything at all. I haven't even made a dent in that shield that everyone here always keeps putting up. If I can just help this man, give him the strength to fight again, then maybe other's will see it too.'

Glad she'd gotten her little mental argument over with herself, she once again turned to the cafeteria, hoping that she could at least convince him of that he was worthy of being saved. When she'd first seen him, he looked as if he had just been standing around, waiting for his world to crumble around him. Then, when she had spoken to him, taken him to his room, it seemed as if he was still reeling over the fact that he hadn't been invisible to her when she'd left the room.

One minute later she found herself in the middle of the cafeteria, scanning her dark eyes around the room. Settling on just the man she was looking for, a small smile appeared on her lips. For some reason, just seeing him had lifted some of her doubts. 'He reminds me of my father, and of Kohaku.' Unconsciously her smile widened as she began approaching him.

He stared ahead, unblinking, not moving a single muscle in his body. 'I can not be beaten, I must win this. I will show him that I am not weak. I will prove to him that I have just as much as strong will as him.'

"Fool," Sesshomaru said, staring ahead with the same expression on his face. "You will never beat me."

"Ah but I shall," he replied as a smirk began playing on his lips.

She stopped at the end of the table, her eyes darting between the two men. She cleared her throat, trying to gain their attentions, but the two just kept staring into each other's eyes. 'Oh great, he's gay.' She shook her head a bit, a blush forming on her cheeks. 'Like it matters anyway.'

"Am I ah…interrupting?" she questioned softly.

He didn't move, only let his eyes to drift to his side, allowing him to take in a bit of her figure before focusing back on Sesshomaru's golden gaze. "No," he answered. "I'm just beating Fluf-"

Growling, the silver haired man kicked him in the shin.

"Ow," he said, narrowing his eyes and grinding the back of his teeth together for a moment. "I mean, just beating Sesshomaru at a good old fashioned staring contest." 

"Yes," he agreed. "And when I win, Jerry here is going to have to do my laundry for an entire month."

'Ha. Little does he know I will be escaping from this place before two weeks time.' She raised an eyebrow.

"Really now? And what does he get if he wins?"

"Sesshomaru has to dress up like platypus on visitors day and perform the song of my choice."

Small giggles escaped her as she quickly clapped a hand over her mouth. "W-what?" she questioned, her voice shaking with laughter. "Why in the seven hell's would you agree to that?" she questioned.

Remaining just as still as earlier, he replied, "Because I can not lose," he said nonchalantly. "Why are you here anyways? Don't you have someone to go rehabilitate?"

Rolling her eyes at his tone of voice, she turned her attention away from the silver haired man and looked towards the man sitting beside her. "Actually I do. I just got back from speaking with Mrs. Kurosawa."

"Who's that?" he questioned.

"The bitch," Sesshomaru said coldly.

"Oh, it's that time of the month for someone now isn't it?"

Giving the man another good kick in the leg, he sighed. "She cares nothing about the people here. She only stays because she is a pitiful, soulless creature who has nothing better to do than to just sit around and try to make everyone else on the planet feel as miniscule and insignificant as she is."

"Plus she groped him at the Christmas mixer," she whispered into his ear. Sesshomaru glared.

Chuckling, he questioned, "Did he file charges?"

"May we change the subject?"

"Of course. When the officer came in he was shocked to find that our Mrs. Kurosawa had groped another women. Sesshomaru was so embarrassed he dropped charges and settled for getting his brother to slash her tires."

"Nice."

"You were saying something about Mrs. Kurosawa? Something that _didn't _involve me and my ass."

Smiling, she nodded her head. "I almost forgot. I spoke with her, you know, told her about the way Dr. Takahashi was treating you."

"You didn't have to do that," he snapped quickly, never moving his eyes. 

"I know," she said. "But it was unfair. I asked her…" Trailing off, her gaze traveled to the floor momentarily. "I asked her if maybe I could do a special sort of program with you."

"Nani?" both men questioned in surprise. Sesshomaru was so surprised in fact, that he lost concentration and blinked. As soon as he had done he snapped to the other man, glaring angrily.

He smirked in triumph. "You blinked."

"No I didn't."

"Did so."

"I most certainly did not."

"You blinked! Oh yeah baby, get you some of that!"  
  
"It was not my fault. I was surprise. I demand a do-over."

"No way man. I won fair and square."

"But…no…" He turned his attentions to her, narrowing his eyes into an evil glare that promised the most painful of deaths. "You," he hissed.

Wanting to quickly avoid speaking with the now rather angered silver haired man, she quickly went back to her earlier explanation. "You know like, take over some of your therapy sessions. You'd still have to go to group but you could get some one on one time too. And I could…"

Forgetting his victory momentarily, his own eyes narrowed. "You did what?"

"I said I…"  
  
"Why in the hell would you do that?" he questioned, his anger rising.

Her shoulders slumped a bit and she took a breath. "Because I saw the way Dr. Takahashi treated you. He was in no way going to help you, he'd already marked you as…well I didn't want you just to…"

"Marked me as what? Trash that wasn't worthy of his time?" he hissed. She winced at his tone, instantly regretting everything she had just said. "Well, at least I know I've got you. Someone cares about poor, little, me who can't take care of himself?"

"I just wanted to try and help."

"Right. Am I really so pathetic that you have to devote special help to me?"

"I never said that!" she yelled, the hold on her temper she'd had earlier beginning to fade. "I never called you pathetic. Is it really so hard to believe that someone might want to help you?"

He stood up and looked down at her, his purple eyes flashing between anger and betrayal. "No," he answered. "But it is hard to believe that someone might want to help for reasons other than being a complete self-serving, cold-hearted, arrogant bitch."

Gaping and her face flushing in anger, she just watched as he turned and stormed off to his room. She let out an anguished sigh and let her head drop to the table, mumbling curses on the surface. Sesshomaru glanced at the retreating figure of the man and then at the women and sighed. 'Great. While I am forced to be subjected to tortures in a platypus suit, that guy is going to get the girl.' He stood up then and began heading towards the wreck room. Life was so unfair.

* * *

_By now  
I should have been somwhere  
Or gone to school, or fixed my hair  
Back down   
Tell it to someone else  
Who gives a shit and needs your help  
  
Cause I found  
What I needed  
And I don't need you to tell me how you feel  
And if I fall  
You are not the one that has to cope and deal  
  
All my problems are for me  
  
My god  
Look at his tattoos and those earrings  
He could never get  
A good job  
Go home and beat your kids  
So they don't turn out as bad as me  
  
Cause I found  
What I needed  
And I don't need you to tell me how you feel  
And if I fall  
You are not the one that has to cope and deal  
  
All my problems are for me  
I don't need your eyes to see  
I will be what I will be  
  
Stop coming around cause you bother me  
Stupid mutherfucker pull your head out your ass and see  
What don't you get, was I stuttering  
I don't need to take your shit get away from me_

All My Problems: Smile Empty Soul


	6. Your Way

Disclaimer: If I owned Inuyasha, I would _not _be writing this. I would be busy doing inappropriate things to Fluffy-sama, Hentai-sama, Nary-chan, Kouga-san…

A/N: I do not own anything in this story. The Serenity Prayer is not mine, nor is the song 'If U C Jordan,' which is owned by Something Corporate. Um this chapter is...werid and pointless, very stupid and very badly written. Which is why I'm posting it now. Chapter 7 will be posted Monday, as per usual, and I'll get back into a regular updating pattern. Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, you all are awesome! Also, to Aamalie, could you really draw the Fluffster in some type of platypus outfit? I don't know if you were just joking, but you would be the coolest person ever if you actually did!

Miroku- (laughs at thought of the Fluff in a platypus suit) Errm, yes, please review this chapter, it makes the author happy when you do! You are all so kind!

* * *

Sesshomaru sighed heavily as he entered the room. Shaking his head, he neared the man who was sitting on his bed, staring angrily at the wall.

"Still brooding are you?" he questioned lazily as he sat on his own bed, reaching over on the side to pull a book from the night stand.

Taking a moment to glare at the silver haired man, he quickly returned back to his deed of burning holes into the walls with his eyes. "…no," he answered, his tone caught somewhere between anger, annoyance, and complete and utter confusion.

He just shook his head again and opened his book, flipping through the pages until he landed on an interesting looking passage. Glancing over at the other man, he silently wondered why he cared about he and the other woman anyway. 'I'm just a hopeless romantic damn it.'

"God," he began softly, his voice clear and smooth as usual. "Grant me the serenity, to accept the things I can not change…the courage to change the things I can…and the wisdom to know the difference."

A few moments of silence passed, neither of the men saying anything. With a heavy, almost annoyed sigh, Sesshomaru stood up. Taking a few long strides, he stopped at the foot of the others bed. When he did nothing, the silver haired man chucked the book at his head, inwardly pleased when the man yelped in pain and quickly turned around.

"Ow," he stated, narrowing his eyes.

"Do you know what that was?" he questioned, ignoring the look of anger passing over his face.

"Um…a book?" he replied sarcastically.

'Why is it I am always stuck with the stupid ones?' Rolling his eyes slightly, he said, "No."

Rubbing the back of his head, he tucked both legs underneath each other and lowered his head, quietly mumbling his response. "The Serenity Prayer."

"Yes," he said. "Do you know what it means?"

"Of course I do," he replied. "My mother used to recite it all the time. She had it plastered to the refrigerator and everything."

'To bad those damned meetings never did anything for.' Almost chucking at the bitter irony of it he shook his head. 'Just another example of the fact that society doesn't give a shit about anyone who can't stand on their own feet.'

"That's not what I asked. I asked if you knew what it meant."

He nodded his head, glaring at the sheets before he fell onto his back. "There are always things worth fighting for, you just have to have to be able to tell the difference between the things that will never change, and the things that you yourself can change."

"Your very perceptive," Sesshomaru stated, not moving from his place. "And very strong-willed. So, I wonder, what are you doing lying on your bed, doing nothing but wallowing in self pity?"

"Well gee, I was going to go out and stop world hunger, but I did that last week," he said sarcastically.

"Why did you turn her down?"

"Why the fuck do you care?" he questioned, his anger rising. 'Why is he interrogating me? He doesn't really seem like the type who's willing to help out a friend in a time of need.'

"Because, it's annoying when all you do is sigh heavily and mope around. It's distracting me from my reading. And," he added. "she really does mean well." He received no answer, only watched as he turned over on his side and buried his head into the pillows. "Listen, as you may have guessed, I don't care about many people. The people I do care about, however, are important to me, and I do not wish to see them in pain. She genuinely does care. I don't know why, but she does. And if for reasons unknown she has decided that she wishes to help you, you should be grateful."

"I don't want her pity," he said. "I don't want her help."

"It doesn't matter if you want it or not," Sesshomaru replied. "You need it. And you better accept while you have the chance. People who are willing to help pull you out of the mess that is your life are hard to come by. You'd have to be even stupider then I first thought not to see that."

He scowled into the pillow. Hearing the sound of the door being closed he turned back over on his side, glancing around the room to see that Sesshomaru had left his presence. 'That man is a conundrum.' He stared at the dresser for a few more moments, studying the cracking paint with his eyes. 'Am I really so pitiful that even the other patients are feeling sorry for me? Now that's a new low. Even for me.'

He frowned a little as he turned on his side. What would it hurt to give her a chance? He was going to have to get out of there soon. Sighing again, he realized he didn't have any idea how he was going to do that. 'Maybe she can help you. If you play nicely, maybe you can trick her into helping you get out.' He thought over this for a moment. He sat up and put his head in his hands, groaning as hundreds of contradicting thoughts poured into his mind. Could he really do that to someone who, at least at first, seemed honest and genuine? He scowled a bit, remembering the feelings that had over-whelmed him when she informed him she had asked about a 'special program'. She had no right, _none_, to think that his problems were any of her business.

He pushed himself out of bed and glanced at his reflection in the mirror, scowling darkly at the pathetic waste that had become himself. He exited the room and went in search of his new 'personal rehabilitater'.

---

"I just don't understand what I did wrong," she said softly. "I was only trying to help."

"You just have to except it," the blonde haired woman, Azana told her. "Some people don't your help."

"I know I just…I thought he might be different, you know?"

She shook her head, smiling at her friends naivety. "That's your problem. You've still got hope that the people in this world are going to try and change for the better."

She sighed, knowing that Azana was right. She didn't know why she'd expected this man to be any different. For some reason, her gut feeling had been telling her that he was the one; the one she could finally reach. She felt awful; guilt, anger, confusion swelling up inside of her, each emotion nagging until she felt the need to bang her head against the wall. Giving her a pat on the back, the blond stood up from the wooden table and began walking back inside of the center.

After asking a couple of oh-so-helpful people around, he finally managed to find himself outside in the garden, if it could be called that. Dead flowers surrounded the outside of the building. A few badly cut shrubs were hidden away in a corner, and a few half broken pots which were surrounded by spilled dirt lined the wall. There were about three wooden tables surrounding the area, some chars and a few benches, and a swing. It reminded him of the one he used to have on his porch at home, even if it was nearly falling off its hinges.

Scanning the area with his dark eyes, he finally saw her sitting at one of the tables, a defeated and somewhat annoyed look on her features. 'Great. Looks like she's just as broody as you are.' Ignoring his inner voices opinion, he began walking towards her. He took a seat across from her and cleared his throat, causing her to look up from the tree she'd been glaring at.

Her expression quickly changed from angry and disappointed to shocked. He stared at her, no real emotion on his face as she blinked her dark eyes in curiosity. He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped when she did the same. Shutting his mouth abruptly, he attempted once again to talk. Words began to rush out of both of their mouths. With a heavy sigh, the two again stopped, annoyance beginning to work it's way onto their features.

"You first," she said, gesturing for him to begin speaking.

"Listen, I just want you to know…" he began.

"I have a story, a bitter anthem for everyone to hear!

About this kid who don't like me and that's a solid fact!

They say he's hunting me and as you can tell I'm swelled up with fear!

Cause I can't get him off of my back!"

He stared blankly as a brown haired man dressed in black sauntered past them, singing at the top of his lungs. He turned his attention back to the woman, who only stared at him, waiting for him to begin speaking again.

"Um…who was that?" he questioned.

"That? Oh, that was just Jordan," she said nonchalantly.

"Uh…okay. What was he…doing?"

"He just likes to walk around and sing that song by Something Corporate. You know that 'If you C Jordan' song? He does it all the time. You'll get used to it." He merely blinked. "Anyways, what were you saying?"

"Oh yeah. Listen, I didn't mean to be a complete asshole to you early," he said, mentally reminding himself that he had to be as honest and genuine as possible, if he was going to get her help. "And I…"

"If you see Jordan!

If you see Jordan!

He makes me sick!

He makes me sick!

High school's over!

High school's over!

And you still won't quit!"

His left eye twitched as the man walked by them again, but he said nothing about it. "Well, I just thought I should apologize for that."

"No don't," she told him, a small smile gracing her lips. "You had every right to be angry."

He blinked at her, surprised she was agreeing with him. "I did?"

'She's not angry I blew up on her? But, why wouldn't she be? She was trying to do her best to help me, even if it was just to make herself feel better about everything.' The small doubt about his theory began nagging at him. Could she possibly help him? He shook his head, sighing softly to himself as she began to speak. 'It doesn't matter if she is serious; I'm beyond anybody's reach now anyway. I already sold my soul to the devil himself.'

She nodded. "Yeah, you did. It wasn't any of my business."

"No, it wasn't," he told her. He was _nobody's _business. He really wasn't worth the time, he knew that. He'd learned that to most of the people in these places, his kind weren't even worthy of being their little pet projects.

Apparently, he was good enough for her. Another scowl worked it's way onto his features. He knew that of course, he wasn't good enough, but she was acting as if he was. It surprised him, so much that he could really find it hard to stay angry at her for pitying him. "But you meant well, I understand that. I was just…"

"You say it's chivalry, well it's jealousy that led us to this song!

Won't play it often just at least until you're gone!

You'll stop at nothing but the real thing and everything up to that's pretend!

You tried to brainwash all of my friends!"

He clenched his teeth together. That guy was really, _really_ beginning to get on his nerves. It was bad enough trying to keep all of his thoughts straight as it was. He had to try and appear calm and forgiving, when on the inside his thoughts were raging and he had no idea what to do. Could this woman be real? Even so, he was just a lost cause anyway.

"I know your still upset with me," she said softly. "I understand, I do. You probably just think that I don't even care, right? That I'm just doing so I can feel better about myself. I'm not. Look, I…I want you to trust me, because I think that maybe, if you'll let me, I can help you get through all this. I just, well, I need you to…"

"If you see Jordan!

If you see Jordan!

He makes me sick!

He makes me si-"

The brown haired man's song was cut off as he found himself being slammed into a tree. She only gasped, watching with wide eyes before jumping out of her seat and begin trying to pry the now psycho patient off of him.

"Let him go," she told him softly, wrapping her hands around his waist and trying to pull him back. "It's not worth it!"

"Just…make it…stop…singing," he said, his eye twitching again. Finally, she managed to pull him off of the other man.

Jordan took in a deep breath and narrowed his eyes at the other man. "That was so not cool," he declared. "I am _not _an it!" He turned on his heel and began stalking away, huffing and mumbling to himself.

He clenched his fists and took a few deep breaths. She stared at him for a few moments, standing a few feet away as she watched him try to calm himself. Cautiously, she walked up and placed a hand on his shoulder, patting his arm.

"You all right? I thought you were going to kill little Jordan there," she said, smiling a bit.

He turned to her, narrowing his purple eyes. "How can you stand that?" he questioned.

She shrugged. "I've just learned to live with it." She went back to sit down, motioning for him to join her. Glancing at the direction the annoying man had gone, he reluctantly went to sit by her.

"Does he even _live _here?"

"No," she replied. "He just likes to hang around and sing that song."

His mouth hung slightly ajar, but he shook his head. 'Weird crap like this is always happening around these centers.' Another reason he hated these places; they were creepy, and always had rather strange people hanging around.

"I didn't mean to offend you," she said.

He sighed, inwardly slapping himself. She sounded so genuine; he almost believed her, _almost_. "I know," he replied. "Maybe we could, start over or something."

She gave him a smile. "That would be great." She lifted her right hand, clasping it around his left and shaking it. "We can start with completely clean slates." He nodded and shook her hand back.

'I can do this. If I can just convince her that I'm getting better, I'm sure I'll find a way to use it to my advantage.' He met her gaze and felt a wave of guilt wash over him as he saw the honest gleam in her dark eyes. 'Don't wimp out now. I can't go feeling guilty now. She's using me exactly like I'm using her, she must be.' He looked away, unable to keep gazing into her eyes which shone with such pure intent. If he could just keep convincing himself that she was a horrible person, than using her to pay back Naraku would be so much easier. Lying to himself was the only way he could function anyway; it's the way he'd been living for years.

"So…" he began. "What do you want to do first?"

"Well, I thought maybe we could start with some trust exercises…"

"High school's over!

High school's over!

And I don't care if you dye your hair!

You'll always be a little redhead bitch!"

He twitched again. Before he could stand up, she quickly wrapped her arms around him to keep him from attacking.

"Let go!" he growled, pushing towards the still singing Jordan. "I'm not going to hurt him, I swear! I only want to…talk to him."

She rolled her eyes. 'What have I gotten myself into?' Suddenly he pushed out of her arms. Her eyes widened as he began chasing after the brown haired man.

"If you see Jordan, tell him he's dead meat!" he cried, chasing the man.

"That's not part of the song dude!" he yelled back, yelping as he was almost caught. 

"Hey! Stop it this instance you two! I mean it! We're supposed to be doing trust exercises, not committing homicide!"

"You tried to fight me down at Tyler's Beach!

And man I think that's great!

You nearly cried and said to yell at you like I do at all the girls!"

"Shut up!"

"Trust exercises! What am I, invisible?! Stop it!"

Sesshomaru and Azana stared out the window, neither of their expressions wavering as they watched the scene outside.

"I see he took her up on the offer," Sesshomaru observed.

"Hai," Azana answered.

"I also see he's met Jordan."

"Hai."

"So what do you think about those two? I think there's chemistry."

"Hai."

"How long do you think it will take them to get together?"

She tilted her head, studying them. "More than two weeks, but less than a month and a half."

"I say a month."

"Care to wager, Fluffy?"

He narrowed his golden eyes, glaring at the man who continued to chase Jordan around in the garden. "I will kill him. One of these days, I will have my revenge."

Azana merely blinked at him, then turned her attention back to the three outside. She and Sesshomaru both watched impassively as the two men crashed into a tree, causing the woman to fall over in hysterical laughter. The two exchanged glances.

"Definitely a month," they both declared. With a sigh, the two turned and began walking towards the wreck room.

* * *

_Stand there with your ball and chain  
Bitch about what you've created  
All caught up in the masquerade  
You've already been paid and made it  
So don't pretend to know what it's like  
To feel the things that we must live through  
You only see with your dying eyes  
There's only one thing I will ask of you  
  
Can you take this life  
Can you make it right  
Do you have the words to say to make it  
All go away  
You act so wise  
And so refined  
You can keep your lies cuz I'm  
Never gonna go your way  
  
Promises of a better life  
But what's wrong with the one I'm leading  
Everyone has a different fight  
A different wound that keeps them bleeding  
So what's wrong with a little fun  
Everybody needs to find their something  
Is this how your gonna treat your son  
Fuck 'em up and give em nothing  
  
Can you take this life  
Can you make it right  
Do you have the words to say to make it  
All go away  
You act so wise  
And so refined  
You can keep your lies cuz I'm  
Never gonna go your way  
  
Everybody needs to find their own way through life  
Everybody needs to find their own way_

Your Way: Smile Empty Soul (cough) _again _(cough)


	7. Silhouettes

Disclaimer: I own nothing, unfortunately.

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed! You are all so kind, and all of your comments made me so happy! Sorry for the suckiness of the last chapter. And yes, it was awful!

Miroku- She doesn't think it was angst-y enough.

It wasn't, so this chapter is extra angst filled! (looks over chapter) (gasps) What's this? Miroku/Sango cuddlies? Hints of fluff _and _plot? And we get a look at Miroku's tragic past.

Miroku- We do? Wait…should I be exicted about this?

(shrugs) _I _think it's sad, but don't take my word for it. Hope you all like it and remember to review! Oh yeah, and I really recommend reading the lyrics for this chapter, it just adds to the whole dramatic effect!

* * *

"This isn't working," he murmured softly.

She frowned at him, though she tried to force a smile. "We just have to give it time," she assured him.

This was the fifth time they'd met that week for one of their sessions. And still, they were nowhere. It wasn't as if she expected him to immediately open up to her; to spill out every secret of his heart and soul, inviting her inside of his mind and thus giving her everything she needed to help pull him out of whatever darkness he'd somehow fallen into. She knew it would take time to earn his trust, if that was something he could even do.

From the first moment she'd met him, she could tell that he did not trust easily; if he even trusted at all. Though, if she had been through the things he had surely had to endure, then she would not be one to allow anyone into her mind. She imagined that once, maybe, he had trusted someone like that. Given them everything; his heart, his soul, his entire world, and they had betrayed him. The way he seemed, the aura about him, made her believe that something like that had happened to him; he had given of himself, only to have everything be ripped away.

He stared at her, eyes blank though his emotions were swirling deep inside of him. Inside, the inner conflict between his heart and mind were still pulling at him, as they had been for the past few weeks.

On one hand, there was his mind; the logical part of him that told him to fight, to deceive, to manipulate, to do anything and everything to survive in a harsh world where no one would ever care. His will was pushing him to use this woman to every extent he could think of. Take this chance she believed she was offering out of caring and faith and twist it to his own advantage. Use her, leave here, finish his job for Naraku and continue to fight.

His heart, on the other hand, screamed at him with such a ferocity that it made his head ache. It told him to just stop fighting; give up, let her help, take help from _anyone_. It kept trying to convince him that surviving wasn't worth it if he had to distort himself into the man he'd tried so hard not become. His heart was telling him to take this woman's hand, look past the fake smiles and cherish those that were real, and just _give in _and let himself be pulled out of this Hell.

He did want to fight; he wouldn't be weak. But what would he fight for? He didn't want to die. He didn't want to fall. He didn't want to be the poor, pathetic failure that everyone had said he would be. The concept of giving up infuriated him, even though he knew that it might be the best thing for him. It was the act itself, not what he would receive for it. Didn't people always tell you to fight? Wasn't it those people with the empty smiles and false promises that everything would be all right who encouraged him to never give up?

It was a contradiction, and he felt like an idiot sometimes for obsessing over it. Fight and survive, but live that life that he fought for regretting every move, or give in and become weak, but at the same time he was depending on everyone else to keep him from going under, stop himself from becoming everything he hated. It was to confusing to him, and he knew that no matter what he chose, he would end up hating himself today just as much as he did yesterday.

And it wasn't _fair_. Why had he been given this life? Was it just some test; a twisted game to see if he could survive it? If it was a test, could he win? Would there be a reward in the end? If he managed to find the answers and lived through all of this, would he be able to go in peace to the light at the end of tunnel? Did it even matter to him anymore? He knew either way, fight or give in, win or lose, alive or dead, he was damned.

He looked at her and then glanced at the clock. He realized -to his embarrassment- he had been brooding again. For the last fifteen minutes no less.

"Gomen," he apologized, slightly irritated with himself.

'Your getting no where. If your going to find a way to use her to get out of here, your going to have to hurry it up. She might just give up on you.'

He scowled to himself. At first, that had been his plan. Use her to leave; as a pawn of sorts, he supposed. But then he did something dangerous; he started to get to know her. She was sweet, caring, strong, and beautiful. She held a hope in her dark eyes that sparkled and made him feel like smiling, because he had not seen such a blind faith in anyone other than a child, though most of the children he knew were on the streets. He could tell that there was something she was carrying; he could see the immense pain she was holding behind her eyes. And for some reason, that made him feel better, and yet, it made him angry. To see that she could be so genuinely honest, but still hold a mask made of lies; she made him think. Made him wonder about her past. Made him want to get to know her better. Made him _care_.

That wasn't something he did. He couldn't -wouldn't- allow himself to feel. For years he'd met people, had connections that faded throughout his life, and not one of them had stuck. Not really friends; acquaintances he sometimes called upon. Not really a lover; one night stands in a dirty hotel room and false impressions that he would call tomorrow. Not really a family; people who had come and gone on a whim. And then this woman just came into his life, offering a real smile and a chance to live and everything he knew was turned upside down. She was like no one he had ever met before. She was everything he hated about himself; kind, heartfelt, full of emotions and the strive to save everyone. It hurt.

He could see himself loving her, and it scared him. He could see himself holding this woman in his arms and laughing with her; could see himself sharing soft kisses and smiles. He wondered how he could come to feel such things -things he hadn't felt in what seemed like an eternity- so quickly. Was it because that void inside of him, that emptiness was longing for these feelings that had crashed down upon him? Or maybe, perhaps, it was meant to be? But that was silly, because he didn't believe in destiny. If he believed in destiny, in _fate_, then it would mean he was _meant _to live this life. Either that or he had screwed up so incredibly this had been forced on him as punishment.

"We could start with your family," she suggested, noticing the look of intense concentration on his face. She wanted him to let her in; she needed him to share some of those feelings with her. If he did, she could connect; if she could connect, then she could find a way to help him. Maybe…

He laughed, or, tired to anyway. His throat was dry and his voice was raspy, so what he meant to be a careless chuckle came out as almost a choked sob. "You don't want to know about them."

"Their part of your past," she insisted softly. "Without them, you wouldn't be here."

"I don't know if that would be such a bad thing," he muttered and rested his head in his hands.

'That's it. Play the sympathy card. She'll think you sad and take pity on you. Work on her; she'll get you out.'

He didn't _want _to work on her. He wanted out, but he didn't want to use her. He didn't want to _hurt _her. 'But,' he realized grimly. 'by allowing her this chance, even giving her a glimpse inside of the twisted-ness that is my scarred little psyche, it _is _hurting her.' He should have never agreed to this. What had he been thinking? Using someone who appeared an innocent for his advantage. And so he could do what? Steal more, lie more, have more blood on his hands? 'Idiot!'

She frowned at him and gently touched his arm. "Don't say things like that," she whispered to him. "Tell me about your father." He didn't stir and she removed her hand from his arm, chewing on her bottom lip momentarily. "You don't _have _to, but it will help if I know. I could…"

"My father," he said as he lifted his head. A long sigh escaped his lips. He could lie to her, he knew that. It wouldn't be hard. But…what would it accomplish by being dishonest with the last person on the face of the planet he might be able to trust? "My father was…a cop."

A smile tugged at her lips and her eyes seemed to lighten. "So was mine," she said.

"Oh really?" he questioned.

"Yeah," she answered as he returned his smile. "He was a force to be reckoned with. He was…brilliant, some people called him. He died in the line of duty, a few years ago. There was this big drug bust…" She shook her head and trialed off.

"I'm sorry," he said. And it scared him, because he meant it.

"It's all right…" she whispered. "It's hit my younger brother the hardest, though. He has to testify in court about it."

"Was he…there?"

She nodded. "My father was at a store, picking up some things for dinner when he saw one of the suspects of a huge drug bust that had escaped. He called for back up, but it never came. The man had a gun, and was there specifically to get him. My brother he…didn't see it happen…but he found our father bleeding and saw the mans face as he retreated."

He nodded, unable to say anything. 'Drug bust…murder…could it be?' No, of course not. It was pure coincidence. Not even _Naraku _was _that _stupid.

"Gomen, don't mind me!" she said suddenly. "You don't need to here my problems, do you? Come on now, tell me about your father."

"My father was…well…I don't guess he was as glamorous as yours."

'What the hell do you think your doing? Telling her the truth? If you let her in, you know what will happen. You'll get attached, you'll lose.'

Stupid voices. It was _his _life. He could ruin it if he wanted to.

"He grew up on the poor side of town. Met my mother in high school and got her pregnant at age fifteen." He smiled, bitterly. "I guess I should be kind of glad they never had any money. If they had, then they'd have had the money for that abortion my mother was always saying she'd wished she'd had."

She held back a gasp. How could a parent ever say that to a child? How could someone ever put another person -let alone their own _flesh _and _blood_- down like that?

"After about a million dead end jobs," he continued, half-way noticing the stunned expression on her face. "he joined the police force. It was kind of funny, actually. When he told me I couldn't stop laughing…well…until he…" He trailed off shaking his head. There was no need to go into detail, was there? The story of one of his mothers many empty beer bottles that had been lying around the house being broken over his head to shut him up could always be saved for a rainy day. "Anyway so, he was a cop. My mother would have gotten a job, but she was a full time alcoholic.

"They weren't completely awful people, I suppose. In public they were perfect. Always kissing each other and laughing and joking. They even found ways to brag about their perfect little boy." He almost smiled then too. In some twisted way he was fond of those memories. When he would go to a party with his parents and hear them say so many wonderful things about him, then when they went home, he, in his young naivety, would ask them why they said those things to other people, yet always told him he was nothing but a useless mistake? When he asked why they hugged him then and hit him at home.

He didn't say this, but somehow, she put the pieces of the unspoken words together. Her heart went out to him. She had to admit though, she was almost glad when he didn't go into detail. She didn't want to know what kind of awful things he must have gone through alone in that house.

"My fathers partner, a man by the name of Tsume, would come around sometimes. He let me spend the night at his house even though he didn't like me. I wasn't too fond of him either, but I went anyway. It was better than a nightly beating.

"I remember when we had take your child to work day at my school. I knew it would be awful, having to spend time with my father, but I was excited. I would get to go to the police station, and if we stayed around enough people, then he would at least have to pretend to be nice to me. We were driving through town, just checking things out while Tsume explained the way the radio works to me. And then…there were shots."

He stopped momentarily, looking over at her. Her eyes were wide, swimming with concern. Not fake pity; not forced sympathy. _Concern_.

"They jumped out of the car. I stayed inside and hid. Once, I dared to look out the window. They were gang members. A few days before Tsume and my father had put their leader behind bars, and they were coming for revenge. One of them fired at Tsume and it almost got him…but my father…It was the one good thing he'd done with his life. Well, that's what people told me anyway. The one thing that he did right; he took that bullet for Tsume. I watched him die. And I remember…feeling nothing.

"I had to tell my mother. Tsume couldn't do it, and no else really _wanted _to. I don't know why my father died for him. Some people though it was because he finally wanted to be a hero, but I think he was just tired. I think he took that bullet because he was too weak to do it himself. Well…I guess that doesn't matter.

"Anyway, my mother. Well she was…she was crushed. She yelled for hours to the sky, cursing my fathers name. She screamed at me, why? She wanted to know why he had left her with nothing but a piece of shit son and bills to pay. I think she went crazy then. Her drinking became worse, but I couldn't complain. When she drank more, she passed out sooner, so there was less time for her to hit and yell at me.

"Finally, I guess, it just got to be too much. She was yelling at me one night, I don't remember what about. She was hitting me with…with something heavy." He felt his voice begin to falter, tears forming in his eyes. It'd been so long since he thought about it, but the vision in his mind came on strong. He was curled up in the corner, crying as his mother hit him over and over and _over _again with one of his fathers old belts. He remembered the beer bottles being smashed next to him, pieces of glass embedding itself into his skin, his blood and tears mixing and running down his skin.

"I…I just wanted her to die," he said, voice barely above a whisper. He wanted to stop. He'd said too much already. He'd let her in too deep. There was no way, no way in _Hell _he could use her now. "I…kicked her. She was so drunk she fell back against the table. She didn't even bother to get back up. Somehow she managed to crawl to the sink, and reached the cabinet, where we kept all the pills…"

The telling of it was beginning to get to be too much. She could sense the strain in his voice.

"I just sat there for hours. I watched her pour bottle after bottle of little white pills down her throat. I watched her vomit it all up and then do it again. I watched…I saw…she asked me to call the hospital. She told me that if she didn't…she swore to Kami she would kill me if I didn't help her. And I…just…sat there…"

She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him to her. He was surprised and at first didn't know what was happening. He went completely stiff in her arms. But then, after a few moments, he realized what was going on. 'She's…embracing me.' No one had ever, not in his entire existence, held him like this. He looked up at her hesitantly. What would he see in her eyes? Pity, sympathy, disgust? He finally met her gaze and saw…

…tears.

Tears. She was crying….crying…

For _him_.

"It's not your fault," she whispered in his ear. "They weren't good enough for you. You shouldn't have had to go through that. But, you have to understand me. Your so much stronger then all of that. You're not worthless…you're not…"

"You…" He pulled away from her, their faces hanging only six or seven inches apart. "You don't think I'm…"

"What?" she asked him softly.

"You're crying," he whispered. He lifted his hand and brushed away a few tears. "Why?"

"Because it wasn't fair," she answered. "You deserved so much better."

He pulled away shaking his head. "How can you say that? You don't even know me! How can you say that I deserved…how can you…? I'm a murderer! I've sinned…I've done so much…I let her _die_. I _killed _her. My own mother. I…I'm nothing! I really…I really am just pitiful, pathetic, worthless, no good…"

"I can see it in your eyes," she said. It was soft, and he barely caught it. When he did he stopped abruptly. He stared at her, searching her eyes for something, _anything _he could relate to. "You're not a murderer, you're not _nothing_. You have a good heart, and I can see it. You're…human."

Human? He blinked. No one had ever called him that before. Stupid, worthless, useless, scum, dirt, trash; but not human. _Never _human. He felt warm wetness on his cheek, and realized that for the first time in years, he was crying. He also realized that this was the first time he'd actually told the story. 'And she…cares.'

'Don't be stupid. She couldn't care less. She just thinks it's pitiful. Your weakness is disgusting, do you know that?'

Damned voices!

"I'm so, so sorry," she whispered and for a moment he stiffened again. Noticing this she added, "For making you tell me. I shouldn't make you relive that."

"No," he said, and a smile managed to grace his lips. "I'm…glad. You're the first person I've ever told about how she died."

She blinked. "The police…"

"I ran away, right after," he answered. "I checked for a pulse and when…when I realized she was dead I ran. I've been on the streets ever since."

She hugged him again. This time, he wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face into her neck. And for the first time in his entire life, he let all of his defenses slip down.

* * *

Silhouettes above the cradle hold me down  
They won't let me go the wrong way  
My mother taught me all the fables, told me how  
In the end all the sinners have to pay   
But -  
  
I don't wanna live like my mother  
I don't wanna let fear rule my life  
And I don't wanna live like my father  
I don't wanna give up before I die  
  
He worked so hard his bones are breaking  
He wore them down but long ago he lost the feeling  
His good intentions leave me shaking, show me how  
I don't ever want to end up like he did  
And -  
  
I don't wanna live like my mother  
I don't wanna let fear rule my life  
And I don't wanna live like my father  
I don't wanna give up before I die  
  
When I have kids  
I won't put any chains on their wrists, I won't  
I'll tell them this  
There's nothing in this world  
That you can't be if you want it enough

Silhouettes: Smile Empty Soul (cough) _again _(cough)

__


	8. I Want My Life

**

* * *

Disclaimer: Wah! I own Inuyasha and have nobody to share it with! Just kidding… **

A/N: Thank you, everyone who reviewed. Oh, I made people cry! I'm sorry, but at least that means I got the effect that I was going for.

Miroku- ...baka. All righty then, warnings for this chapter. Language, mentions of drug use, mentions of abuse, and more into the tragic life of everyones favorite bishounen hentai.

(eyes light up) Vash the Stampede is here?!

Miroku- (faints)

* * *

Sesshomaru took another sip of coffee, frowning as the bitter liquid entered his mouth. Honestly, couldn't these people even afford to make good _coffee_?

"Cheap bastards," he said, seemingly speaking the silver haired mans thoughts.

"Hai," he agreed as he sat his Styrofoam cup on the table. His golden eyes scanned the cafeteria, searching for a certain dark haired nurse, who for reasons unknown, _wasn't _hovering around the man sitting in front of him like some type of vulture; a concerned, well-meaning vulture, but a vulture none-the-less. Since their 'session' the week before, the two had rarely been seen apart. "Where is she?" Sesshomaru finally questioned.

He blinked innocently, as if he had no idea whom he could be talking about. "Where's who?"

Rolling golden eyes in slight annoyance, he answered, "Martha Stewart, you utter moron."

He furrowed his brow in confusion. "Isn't she dead?"

Instead of fainting for his stupidity in an odd, animated sort of fashion like some people around him seemed to have a tendency to do, one of Sesshomaru's eyebrows merely twitched. Before he could open his mouth to lecture the man in front of him about just how much of an idiot he truly was, the woman he'd been speaking about only moments earlier had taken a seat beside him.

"Good morning," he said, giving her a charmingly smile.

She returned the smile. "Good morning," she said. The two just continued smiling, genuinely happy and even relieved to be in each others company. Though, who wouldn't be? In the past weeks they had known each other, they'd come to share some odd kind of bond that neither could really place. And while under conditions such as this, they were both thankful that they had someone they could talk to, even confide in.

"Well," Sesshomaru said as he stood up. "If the two of you are going to continue making googily eyes at one another, I suggest you do so in private. You know how its looked down upon when you employees mingle with we lowly addicts."

The two watched him stalk away. A light blush came upon her cheeks, but it quickly faded as she turned to the man sitting next to her.

"Has something been bothering him? He seems a bit uptight."

He raised an eyebrow and she chuckled.

"More so than usual, I mean."

He shrugged. "I think he's still a tad bit upset about the whole platypus thing."

Smiling, she questioned softly, "Are you actually going to make him do that?" Though she did admit, it would be _very _amusing to see, it wouldn't be exactly kind to force the other man into a position of such humiliation. Sesshomaru was someone who was used to having complete control over a situation; being admitted to the Center was enough of a sting on his pride.

"Of course!" he answered, smiling happily to himself. "A deal is a deal. Besides, it would wound his honor if he went back on his word."

She merely smiled at him, shaking her head. He returned the warm smile. Without thinking, he lifted his hands and brushed away her bangs. His smile widened as a light blush spread across her pale cheeks. Yumi Kurosawa watched, dark brown eyes narrowed into slits, as the two of them laughed. The gray haired administrator frowned as the two got up, the woman leading the still chuckling dark haired man out into the small side garden located just outside of the cafeteria.

Dr. Takahashi walked up beside the silently fuming woman. He smirked at her, dropping his plastic lunch trey onto the table as he sat down. "I see you still don't approve of her giving him personal therapy sessions, do you?" he questioned knowingly. He could practically feel her eyes boring into her neck, which only caused his smirk to grow wider. He knew of her hatred for the young woman; why she disliked her so much, he didn't know. Perhaps it was because she reminded Yumi so much of herself when she was younger; kind, beautiful, generous and loving, before years of bitterness had worn down her senses and left her nothing but a hollow shell of a person.

She slammed a fist onto the table, causing the doctor to wince almost in surprise as he snapped his gaze to meet her own. "This is your fault," she hissed into his ear.

"My fault? It was _her _idea."

"You agreed to it," she countered, her dark eyes dangerously narrowed.

Dr. Takashi merely returned the glare. "You're just being a bitch, Kurosawa," he replied casually, taking a sip of orange juice. "I think the program is working rather well. Both of them are busy, and we don't have to deal with either of them. I see nothing wrong with the way…"

He was cut off as his trey -which had been piled with a bowl of cereal, an apple, and his orange juice- flew off of the table and landed clattering onto the floor. He looked down, blinking his eyes before he looked up at the woman standing beside him.

"You know Takashi," she said cruelly. "I really should get around to firing you one of these days." With that she turned and stormed out of the cafeteria, leaving the doctor muttering profanities as he bent down and began cleaning up the mess.

---

He was sprawled out across the grass, enjoying the warmth of the sun's rays on his face. It felt nice, to just be able to lie down and let his eyes close, without having to worry about everything else going on. It didn't hurt that she was lying next to him, a few locks of her dark brown hair spilling out onto his shoulders.

It had been one week since what he liked to refer to as 'the revelation' he'd had. He had spilled his heart out; told every sick, twisted little detail that he'd tried so long ago to bury inside of himself. He couldn't even really figure out why he had done it. But he had, and now, he was almost glad. It felt as if a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. He had been so sure that by telling her, he would have pushed her away. That she would have stared at him with a mixture of pity and disgust and then abandon him like so many others had in his life. He'd been prepared, ready for the sting of the cut that would be made as soon as she told him to get the hell away from her; or worse, call the police and turn him as the murderer he'd always believed himself to be.

But when he looked into her eyes, he'd come completely undone. They were so filled with concern and true, utter sympathy; not the pity that was thrown his way every now and then; _true feelings_, _emotions_, and they were directed at _him_.

He tilted his head, smiling softly at the woman lying next to him. 'I could really get used to this,' he thought to himself.

'Don't. What in the hell are you thinking? Oh wait, your _not _thinking. You _never _think. Do you truly believe she feels anything other for than just misplaced pity? You truly are just a poor little bastard, aren't you? She will _never _care for you, not truly. No one ever _has_; no one ever _will_. You're such a moron. You've known her what? Almost three weeks, is it? And you're already starting to fawn all over her like a love sick puppy. Though, that's all you are, isn't it? A pathetic, sniveling, _dog_. She'll break your heart; she doesn't want you. And she never will.'

Ignoring the continuously nagging voice in his head, he continued to smile at her. "Nani?" he questioned softly as he realized that while the voices in his head were metaphorically beating the shit out of his already bruised and bloodied ego, she had asked him a question.

"What…did you want to be?" she asked again. "When you were growing up, what did you want to do with your life?"

He turned on his side to study her. His gaze lingered on the lines of her face, smiling slightly. Then he laughed.

She nearly shot up when she heard the smooth chuckle escaping his lips. She stared at him, more then a bit surprised. "What?" she asked. "What's so funny?"

He gave her a bright smile. "Nothing," he said, shaking his head a bit. "It's just…you're the first person that's ever asked me that."

She propped herself up with her elbows, tilting her to the side. "Asked you what you wanted to do with your life?"

"Hai," he answered, nodding sadly. "My childhood, well, my entire life actually, has never really been picture perfect…if anything, it's been more like some majorly fucked up after school special. Growing up I never had anyone telling me," he paused for a moment, letting his voice drop deeper and taking a more serious expression on to his face. "…be all that I can be," he finished, doing his best to make mockery of the Army of One commercial he'd seen on TV a few times. She laughed a bit, despite the bitterness she heard in his tone.

"That's awful," she told him sincerely. "Everyone should be given the opportunity to succeed, and be pushed to do their best. And come on, there must have been something that you liked doing as a child."

"Well…"

"Something _not _being to grope the women," she added with a smile.

"Since you put it like that then…iie," he replied. "I don't know…really. Everyone I knew figured I wouldn't live to make it past eighteen anyway, so it's not as if they saw a _reason _to encourage me. No one has ever had any faith that I could ever do something. Either that or…they thought I _wanted _to live life in the streets."

He sighed at that, knowing that both were probably true. A small shudder went down him, remembering all of the cruel words that had been spat at him over the years.

You'll never be anything, kid.

You'll die out on the streets, just like your father.

What do you think that you, useless trash, could ever accomplish?

Tsume once, when he'd gotten just a bit too fed up with seeing his face at the police station. His mother once, in a drunken rage as usual. And Naraku, once. A scowl crossed over his features. He remembered the exact moment he'd spoken those particular words to him. It was the night, nearly two and half months earlier, that he'd told the raven haired drug Lord he no longer needed a dealer, that he was going to leave and make something of himself.

He was pulled out of his internal ramblings when he felt something light brush against his hand, feather like in its softness. His purple eyes trailed down his arm, looking down to see his hand being held gently; warm, soft, pale fingers loosely intertwined with his own in a soothing embrace. It was like -what he could only imagine, of course- the touch a mother would give a child; comforting and supporting. His gaze traveled upwards, and for a moment lingered on lips which looked just as gentle as the small embrace, then up even farther to meet eyes that were much like the hold on his hand; warm and comforting, strong yet yielding somehow.

"I have faith in you," she said softly but genuinely as she leaned in to him, brushing those soft lips against his cheek quickly before pulling back. A blush once again slipped over her features.

All he could do was stare in shock. In all of his years on the planet, he had _never _been kissed on the cheek, by _anyone_. Hell, he could probably count the number of times he'd been kissed on the lips on his fingers, and a little over half of those he had never wanted.

He liked to imagine that, when it came to matters such as these, intimate matters -he never, _ever_ called them matters of the heart or romance, as a rule, because for him, things like this had never, _ever _been about feelings- there were to sides to the man he was; two people, with different conquests, different histories.

One man was pure and clean; simple and naive, who had only ever felt soft touches and warm embraces, meaningless as they were. One man who had gentle words whispered into his ear and murmured the same things to a face with no name. One man who had never felt love, but had never really felt pain when it came to such things.

Then, there was the other side. The one who was nothing like the other. One man who had not hidden away his shame as he stood out on a street corner at the age of fifteen, fluttering eyelashes, flashing pouting lips, drawling out a pick up line or two to each lonely looking woman who walked by. One man who had always felt some type of pain. One man who had never really had a choice in such intimate matters. One man who could say 'no' as many times as he wanted, even though he knew it would never matter.

It was easier this way, thinking that he could be two people. Much simpler in fact. He could believe that somewhere, deep inside of him, he was not broken; he still had something to offer to those who gave him those smiles and touches, and yet, he could still pull out the torn man and be able to fight when there was no longer any type of pleasure being offered, but words that stung, teeth that nipped painfully at flesh, hands that pulled and battered until he was nothing but a bloodied mass.

But the touch, the look, that kiss was _nothing _like anything he had ever experienced before. This was comforting, caring, genuine. He almost melted into those eyes and the way a slight bit of more warm pressure was applied, squeezing his hand in a reassuring manner.

'Why did I just do that?' she questioned herself. It was number one rule -other than the one about not actually giving a damn about the patients, though that was unspoken it was most clearly understood- that the doctors and nurses did not engage in any type of relationship with the patients other than professional. 'Kami, if Kurosawa ever saw me, I'd be fired in a minute.'

In all honesty, she supposed she did know why she kissed him and reached down to hold his hand. He had looked so sad, so venerable in that moment, and she wanted nothing more than to comfort him. She had seen the flickers of emotion running through his face before her action, and had seen the way his body seemed to cringe after. He was remembering, and that was the only thing she could guess. 'What has he been through, all those years on the streets?' She could only imagine the tortures that might have been inflicted, and that made her grip on his hand tighten even more.

'I will help him get past it. He deserved so much _better_, and somehow, I'll find a way to give it to him.' She laid back down, daring to scoot a tad bit closer to him. Her face heated but she tried to ignore it as much as she could. If someone caught them, there would be Hell to pay. But if they didn't…

It'd been a long time since she could just lay back in the grass, smiling lazily like she didn't have a care in the world. Which was odd, because that wasn't the way she should be feeling. She was supposed to be helping him, doing everything she could to bring him back, working and pushing herself to the edge, yet she felt completely comfortable, relaxed. Helping him suddenly wasn't her _job_, it just seemed…natural. The feeling, awkward as it was, somewhat comforted her.

"So…nothing?" she asked.

"Hmm?" he seemed distracted. She couldn't help but smile as she lifted up, seeing the serene yet confused look on his face.

'I must have really caught him off guard. He didn't even grope me.'

"You didn't have any ambitions when you were younger? I find that hard to believe," she persisted lightly. "You seem like someone who would want to become something…" Her voice trailed off unsurely.

This time, it was he who squeezed her hand back. "Actually, I kind of wanted to be a monk.."

She nearly choked on her next breath. "A monk?" she questioned.

He looked over, frowning at her softly. "Is that so hard to believe?" he asked, chuckling softly.

"A bit…yes. What would all the women say, when they went to visit the monk who instead grabbed their back side?"

He laughed again. "I don't know…" he said, trailing off. "What about you? Did you always want to help people?"

"This isn't about me…"

"I know," he cut her off. "But I like learning about you. So, did you?"

She sighed for a moment as she pulled her knees up to her chest, resting her chin at the top of her knees. A thoughtful look came over her face for moment. "Yeah," she answered. "I saw the way people treated each other; they used and abused one another. It always made me sick, how someone could treat another person as anything less than human." She tilted her head to look at him. "So yes, I suppose so."

"You're good at it," he muttered absently.

A small nod, light blush, soft smile and he felt like melting again. Being in this Center wasn't really so bad after all…

It was only the matter of getting out.

* * *

_I try  
To be the man I am  
In times of broken lives  
And shattered dreams and plans  
Standing up to fight  
The pressures and demands  
Staring at the knife  
And holding in your hand  
What used to be your life  
  
This world is crazy  
My dreams are fading  
I want my life  
  
You fight  
Your holy wars  
Fire anti-Christ  
Jesus will come down  
And help us win tonight  
Now how should I feel  
I think I feel alright  
So tell me where to aim  
I'm blinded by the light  
  
This world is crazy  
My dreams are fading  
No one can save me  
  
I want my life  
  
And when I wake up you'll be here  
And it will be the way it was_

I Want My Life: Smile Empty Soul...(but uh...you guys already knew that, didn't you?)


	9. Every Sunday

Disclaimer: No, I _still _don't own Inuyasha, but I'm working on it.

A/N: Hello everyone. All right, I don't usually do this, but I felt the need to put review responses up today. So…here they are.

Shippochan301- Yeah, Fluffy. It's a great mental image isn't it? Especaillu Fluffy in a loin cloth. Moving on. Sorry to tell you this, but Shippo will not be making an appearance in this story. Thank you for the review.

Jessiy Landroz- To clear up some confusion: Sango knows Miroku's name, Miroku knows Sango's name, I just haven't put them in the actual story. Sorry if that's confusion, but I believe I put that piece of information in a previous author note. Thank you for the review.

FlamingRedFox- Yeah I know I'm awesome. LOL, just kidding. Thank you for the review.

Dumber then a Moogle ass- I just love your reviews. Their nice and long and make me fell appreciated. The above explanation answers your question. Miroku is the duggie, Sango is the doctor/nurse that's helping him.

Karen10- Chapters are fun, ne? Thank you for the review.

Amalie- Your review predicted some of the main events of this chapter. You sly devil, you. Thank you for the review.

Tsuki no mizu- Great eh? Thank you for the review.

Mirokuo Sempai-Crazy- Well, if you like the Smile Empty Soul songs, then you should be kept happy for a while… thanks for reviewing.

Corisu Li- Thank you for reviewing, it's awesome.

Someone asked me if I could update twice a week (they reviewed from another chapter, and I only put chapter 8 responses). It's sweet that you guys want more of this story, but it's hard enough getting out one chapter every week. I feel drained of all of my writing inspiration. I haven't felt like writing for _any _of my stories in a while. I'm really going to try and keep up with this story though.

Miroku- You done ranting now?

Yes. Yes, I believe I am. Please review! Oh and this chapter is over 4,000 words long. Go me.

* * *

Yumi Kurosawa picked up the phone, mumbling under her breath as she rapidly dialed the number she needed. She tapped her foot against the tile flooring, her brown eyes cold and narrowed as she waited for someone to pick up the phone.

"Hello, Tokyo Police, officer Hiroko speaking," said a male voice.

"This is Kurosawa Yumi, from the Sunny Pines Rehabilitation Center. I need to speak with officer Donyai," she snapped quickly.

There was a slight pause at the other end before he answered, "Hold on just a moment."

She waited impatiently, still tapping the back of her heel against the floor.

"Hello? Yumi?"

"Tsume," she greeted coolly. "I need to speak with you."

"Now?" he questioned, his voice edged with annoyance. "Is it important, because I really don't have time…"

"About the man you admitted a few weeks ago."

Another pause. She smirked as she heard him sigh. "What did he do this time?"

"He's been posing a slight problem and I think…"

"Problem how?" he cut in.

She frowned and narrowed her eyes, despite the fact that the source of the problem was on the other end of the phone. "He's been traipsing around with one of the nurses."

Tsume groaned slightly. "That's just like him, you know? Going off to get better and just ending up screwin' around…"

"Yes well, he is what he is," she said, not interested in listening to his rant. "I was told that if there were any problems to call you, correct?"

"Hai," he answered sighing. "I suppose you'll want me to come down there right?"

"That would be most helpful," she replied. "And Tsume, I expect you to make it perfectly clear to him what his place is. Understood?"

He inhaled sharply, catching her meaning easily. "…hai."

There was a dead silence on the other end. Yumi smiled slightly to herself and hung up the phone. She began humming lightly under her breath, delighted with this new development. 'Tsume will take care of the stupid boy. Now, to get to that girl…'

-

Sesshomaru watched in silent amusement as the brown haired man tried desperately to block his next move, but of course, he was no match for him, Sesshomaru, master of fooseball!

"Foolish mortal," he said with a slight smirk. Almost effortlessly he spun the end of one of the rods, blocking the others move and scoring yet _another _goal.

"This isn't fair…" he whispered to himself. Looking up, he narrowed purple eyes. "You're cheating."

"And how would I cheat at fooseball?" he questioned, hiding his bemusement for the man in front of him.

He stuttered for a moment, trying to think of how one would indeed cheat at such a game. "I don't know," he admitted. "But I will find out. And as soon as I do, you're going down…Fluffy."

He smirked momentarily, forgetting that his fingers were curled around the edge of the fooseball table. He cried out when one of the metal rods were slammed into his fingers. He cursed under his breath as he cradled his poor injured hand closer.

"What was that for?" he hissed.

"One, for calling me Fluffy. Two, for telling Azana that you call me Fluffy. And, three…because I felt the sudden urge to hurt you."

He blinked at him unsurely. "Right," he said stretching out the word. "Why do I always have to room with the crazy ones?"

Slam.

"Ow! Kami Sesshomaru stop _doing _that!"

Mentally patting himself on the back, he glared at the other. "I prefer eccentric."

"Psycho," he mumbled underneath his breath. He quickly pulled his hand away just as the silver haired man prepared to hit him again. "Ha!" he said triumphantly. "You shall never defeat me, oh great Lord Fluffy the platypus!"

Other than the slight twitch of an eyebrow, Sesshomaru did not appear to be fazed. "One might take your threats more seriously if your fly was not unzipped, oh insignificant Lord hentai."

Frowning, he looked down to quickly zip up the fly to his pants. A look of confusion crossed over his face as he saw that they were just fine. "Why did you…ah!" He rubbed the side of his head, glaring at Sesshomaru through narrowed eyes. While he had been checking out the condition of his pants, he had failed to notice the other moving to his side of the table. "Why does everyone keep abusing me?" he muttered.

"Sesshomaru," said a soft but firm voice from behind the two of them. His eyes glinted happily, his mood visibly lifting as he walked passed the silver haired man and over to the woman's side. "I thought you were going to start being a little nicer to him."

"Yeah!" he agreed, sticking his tongue out in an oh so mature manner.

Sesshomaru frowned momentarily. "I _was _being nice to him," he said defensively.

She rolled her dark eyes. "Have you taken your medication today?" There was no answer. "Sesshomaru…" she said, her tone and eyes showing that her annoyance was rising.

He growled low in his throat. "Oh, fine," he said. "But I'm not going because you told me to. I'm going because _I _want to." With one last death glare he turned and began walking out of the wreck room.

"Bye Fluffy!" he yelled shrilly, waving happily. "I'll miss you!"

Sesshomaru winced slightly, eye twitched, and with a sharp intake of breath, left the room, mentally making note to slap him later. She turned to him, smiling softly and shaking her head.

"Why do you do that? It only makes him angry."

He shrugged. "I'm not sure," he answered honestly, laughing. "As sad as it sounds, he's the closet thing to a friend I've ever had. I guess it's just our way of joking around…at least…I _hope _that's what it is." A look of dread momentarily came over his features. "If it's not he'll probably strangle me in my sleep…"

She smiled at the slightly horrified look on his face. It was true, in some odd, twisted sort of way; when in his company, Sesshomaru seemed to loath all of man kind somewhat less. 'He makes people happy.'

It seemed true enough. Ever since she'd met him, he had seemed to lift her sprits slightly. He'd gone through so much, but she could still sometimes see that small glint in his eyes; a bit of humor, hope, humanity even. It was nice and real, two things she didn't deal with often. 'He reminds me of Kohaku. Even though he's been through so much, a part of him still seems innocent.'

Noticing her smile, he couldn't help but return it. "So, what do I owe the pleasure of your visit? Our next session isn't for…"

"I think we might have to miss our next session," she informed him sadly.

He trailed off. Tilting his head to the side, he simply asked, "Why?"

A somewhat annoyed sigh escaped her lips. "Kurosawa told me that someone was coming here to see you. A police officer…Donyou or something."

"Donyai," he muttered irritably. "Tsume. Damn," he swore softly.

It didn't register for a few moments, but she let out a soft gasp when it did. "Tsume…your father's old partner?"

He nodded, his jaw tightening. "Hai," he answered. 'Why the hell would he want to see me?' She noticed his tense expression and frowned. Gently, she placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Do you want me to see if I can get you out of it?" she questioned. "I know you can handle it," she said quickly, not wanting to wound his pride. Even after all the barriers she had passed, the waters that surrounded him were still far to deep for her ford. She knew she still had to be gentle with everything; she knew it would take time. "But you don't have to deal with it if you don't want to."

'Pity again. Who does she think she is? Your savior? Tell her off, like you did the last time.'

"Arigatou, but iie."

'Wimp.'

"I have to see him," he sighed. "Even though I don't want to. If he took time from his busy schedule then it must be something important."

"All right," she answered. "If your sure…"

"I'm sure," he told her.

"Well then…um, your supposed to meet with him and Dr. Takahashi in his officer at 1:30." She glanced up at the wall, frowning slightly. "You've got about ten minutes to get ready."

He groaned under his breath. 'Great…the bastard and the bastard with a PHD. Fun!' He looked at her, noticing the look of concern on her features. This time it was he who gave her the comforting touch. He placed his fingertips on the wrist which rested on his shoulder.

"Don't worry about me," he told her, forcing a small smile. "What's the worst that could happen?"

-

"I pull all these strings to get you out of jail and what do you do?" Tsume questioned furiously. Gripping him by the collar of his shirt he pulled him up. "I ask you a question, I expect an answer," he growled and dropped him back onto the floor.

' "What's the worst that could happen?" Famous last words, you baka.'

He would've yelled at this voice, had his head not been hurting so much. After she had informed him of his little meeting, he'd gone straight to Dr. Takashi's office. They had both already been there, along with Yumi.

'That should have been my first clue,' he thought to himself bitterly as a kick was delivered to his side. The two psychopathic Center employees, along with Tsume, was not a good combination. Yumi left quickly, saying that she had to go speak with someone about something or other. He had sat down, and Tsume had begun questioning him about everything that had been going on since he'd been there. As per his usual style, he'd avoided answering most questions by replying with smart alec remarks, reveling in the way he could make the older man so frustrated. It was his indulgent little revenge; being able to piss him off was the only thing he ever really _could _do to Tsume. Dr. Takahashi had made a comment, and he'd made a comeback with some witty doctor pun. He forgot what, not that it was important anyway. The next thing he remembered was the good doctor -he still had his doubts about that- slapping him hard across the face.

'What did you think they were going to do? Ask you some questions then send you off with a little lollipop and a sticker? She's softened you, moron. Of course you were in for a beating. How long did you think it was going to take before Tsume finally broke down and beat the shit out of you for that big mouth?'

He should have known, really he should have. Why else would Tsume have come? Yumi and Dr. Takahashi had obviously been fed up pretty quickly with him; especially since he'd been having those sessions. They must have figured that by reporting him to the cop that brought him here, Tsume would do something to make him re-think the way he was acting.

He learned earlier on that people lose patience with words pretty quickly. Actions, however, never get old.

It wasn't as if Tsume had never hit him before. But it did take a lot to get him angry. And that had only been once or twice, when he was younger. The older mans choice of abuse had usually been words, anyway, so he was never really worried that Tsume would actually hurt him physically. Not _much_, anyway.

Kami, sometimes he could really misread people. It was stupidly on his part, he supposed. And now, he was paying for that stupidity.

"I tried," Tsume was saying. "I really did. Even when your father was alive, I tried to do right by you. Why did I even bother? It obviously didn't do any good. You've still amounted to nothing, no matter how much I pushed you." He kneeled down, looking directly into purple eyes as he spoke. "Can you tell me why I wasted so much time on you, kid?"

He merely stared ahead, exhaustion beginning to take over. "Yeah," he replied. "You're a self righteous bastard who always thought that you could repay some debt you owed to my father by trying to make me a better person."

Tsume growled and punched him in the eye. His body lurched to the side, but he placed his hands on the floor, forcing himself to stay into a sitting position. He couldn't stand at the moment, but he would not go laying down.

"Your such a fucking hypocrite!" he yelled, his voice laced with anger. "You try to make me all these things, and what the hell are you? I may be _scum_, but I'm better then you will _ever _be."

Tsume stared at him for a few moments. The small, wood-paneled room was filled with silence; the only sound was his and Tsume's heavy breathing. Dr. Takahashi merely sat on the edge of his table, staring at the two men in shock.

"What did you say?" Tsume asked, almost softly. "What did you just say to me?"

Taking in shaky breaths, he turned to his side and used the wall as leverage, pushing himself up. Slowly he got into a standing position. After a few more deep breaths and tense moments, he turned, facing a man he'd known since childhood. His dark eyes were shining with defiance.

"I said…I'm _better_," he repeated slowly, his voice growing louder with each word he spoke. "I'm better than you, Tsume."

For a moment, he thought about laughing, until he realized that the man in front of him was serious. Tsume's eyes narrowed. "Oh yeah? And what makes you think that? What makes you think that you could possibly be better than me?" he asked. "Look at where you are! Look! You're in rehab, you idiot. You would have been in jail if it weren't for me. And now you're telling me that your better? How in the hell are you any better than me?!" he screamed angrily.

Dr. Takahashi winced, but said nothing. He knew his orders; make sure that Tsume helps him _learn his place_. None of them would leave until he learned his lesson. Staring at the dark haired man, he almost felt sorry for him. _Almost_.

-

She paced through the wreck room almost nervously, biting her lip and glancing up at the clock every few moments. Sesshomaru watched her, glaring from behind his paper back book.

"Stop," he commanded.

She looked up at him, her brown eyes narrowing. "I'm not doing anything. And hey, you can't order me around you know," she informed him.

He merely rolled his eyes. "Would you stop pacing about like that? You're giving me a headache."

"Well excuse me, Lord Sesshomaru," she said sarcastically as she plopped down on the couch next to him. "I'm just…worried. Something doesn't feel right, you know? Dr. Takahashi…" She shook her head. Then she turned to the silver haired man, placing her hand on his book and pulling it away from him, forcing him to meet her eyes. "And did you see the way he got when I mentioned Tsume? Something about this whole things is just…_wrong_."

"You worry too much," he said and grabbed the book back from her. She frowned at him. "But…if you really are this upset, maybe you should speak with Kurosawa about it. She had to approve Tsume's visit in the first place."

She nodded to this. Giving a soft smile she stood up. "Arigatou Fluffy," she said as she left the wreck room.

A silver eyebrow twitched a bit as he went back to his book.

She raced down the hall and down to Yumi's office. When she came to the oak door, she found herself sneering at the name which was on the door. She knocked softly, then opened the door and came in, not waiting for any type of protest from the older women. Yumi looked up, hiding a grin.

"Why, hello. How are you doing on this fine day?" she questioned, voice laced with sarcasm and disdain.

"I wanted to ask you about Tsume," she said, walking over to take her seat.

Yumi raised an eyebrow. "Well Tsume is a very common name, my dear. You'll have to be a bit more specific."

"Don't play stupid," she said, her voice and features completely serious.

"Don't get that attitude with me girl," Yumi hissed. "I'm still above you, you know? I could have you fired any minute."

A soft laugh escaped her. "Yeah right. The board knew my father, and they love me. It's you they want to see thrown out of this place. Now, just tell me why you let him in here."

Glaring, Yumi merely sat back a little in her chair. "I was the one who called him, actually. You see, he told us to let him know if your little friend was posing any…problems."

"Problems? He's been nothing but…"

"I asked Tsume to take care of it," she interrupted. "He promised me that he would be able to get his attitude in check."

She stared at the elder woman, confusion on her face as she did. 'What does she mean get his attitude in check? What is she…Oh…no!'

"If either of those two psychos," she said standing up, "has laid one single finger on him, I'll see your fired; but not before your humiliated and ruined."

Now it was Yumi's turn to laugh. A slow, triumphant and almost evil grin spread across her lips. "You think your so smart, don't you? It may be true that all those on the board for the hell hole want to see me gone, but who else are they going to get? I was the only person who would for this place. Do you really think they'll be able to find someone else? Besides," she added, leaning back, making her appear even more at ease. "Who else would provide the funding? You? Don't kid yourself; this place needs money, and that's what I've got."

"Why are you doing this?" she nearly screamed, her voice shaky. "Why do you sit there, day after day, using all your energy to make everyone around you miserable? Why give all of this money and donations if you don't even care anyway?!"

Yumi dark eyes narrowed, and her expression became even darker. "Because I can," she answered slowly. "And there's nothing you can do about it."

She clenched her jaw. "We'll see about that." With that, she turned and left the room, heading down to Dr. Takahashi's office.

-

"You know why I'm better than you?" he asked, feeling strangely confident of himself as he spoke. "Because unlike you, I don't owe anybody. I don't have to destroy other people to make myself whole."

"Destroy? Have you forgotten everything I've ever done for you?"

"Done for me? What did you ever do for me? Tell me I was worthless? Make believe that I never had anything? When I was only fifteen and living out on the streets, what did you do? You left me there! You told me that was where I _belonged_."

"I kept you out of trouble," he interrupted. "I kept you out of jail."

"Well gee, thanks! I'm just _so _grateful. Your idea of keeping me out of trouble was just keeping me out of jail? You know, if you _really_ wanted to help, you would have just left me alone. You wouldn't have put me down, and you wouldn't have let me stay out on the streets, and you wouldn't have killed my father!"

Tsume raised his hand and slapped him across the face, the impact sending him backwards a bit. "You should be grateful. If there's one thing I did for you, that was it. You wouldn't have lived if he had. You know that!"

"You want me to thank you for ruining my life?"

"Me? I didn't ruin anything! I did what I thought was best for you. I can see now that that was a mistake."

"Yeah it was," he agreed bitterly. "I don't need you, and I never have."

Tsume clenched his jaw, his eyes becoming slits as he glared at the younger man. He shook his head and turned his attention to Dr. Takahashi, who was still sitting calmly at his desk. "Tell Kurosawa that the problems been taken care of," he said, almost quietly.

The doctors eyes widened slightly. "But…"

"Tell her not to call me again," he interrupted harshly. "And…tell her to back off the kid."

Without another word he opened the door and exited the room, leaving the other two men staring in shock. Dr. Takahashi opened his mouth, as if he was about to say something, then closed it, looking shocked. What the hell had just happened? 'I thought this Tsume was supposed to beat some sense into him…get him to remember his place here…damn. Yumi is going to kill me.'

Grabbing a tissue from his desk, Dr. Takhashi walked over to the figure that was slumping against the wall. Glaring in disgust, he tossed the tissue at him. "Here," he spat. "I don't want you getting blood on the carpet."

"Thank you _so _much for the concern," he said sarcastically, his angry eyes hidden by locks of brown hair which fell in front of his eyes. He grabbed the tissue and brought it to his lips, wincing when it made contact with his bloodied lip.

Just as Dr. Takahashi was about to retort, the door swung open again. The two looked up to see a rather angry looking woman in the entry way. Her eyes moved from the figure of the doctor to that of the man who was leaning against the wall. Anger set on her features and she turned to Dr. Takahashi, who merely blinked at her.

"Do you know how to knock?" he questioned her.

"Do you know I could have you fired? No wait, scratch that. Do you know that I _will _have you fired?" she asked, her voice laced with just as much venom as his.

The doctor smirked. "You may think you've got a pretty powerful position here girl, what with your father helping found this place and everything, but your forget the little matter of Yumi Kurosawa; she also helped fond this place."

She took a few steps closer to him, keeping her glare level with his own. "And you think she's going to what, over rule me when I tell the board that you're not even qualified for this job?" She smiled inwardly as his expression faltered. "I _saw _Tsume checking out. I think you should go talk to her, and see what she has to say."

Tossing a glance at him, Dr. Takahashi huffed and stormed out of the room. She moved quickly to the injured mans side, wrapping her arms around his waist to help him balance against the wall. He managed to stand, a bit shakily, but she still kept one hand securely pressed against his abdomen.

"Are you all right? I should have known better. Stupid Kurosawa…one of these days I _will _find a way to get her out of here. Do you need…"

He shook his head, smiling as he lifted a hand and placed a finger on her lips, keeping her from going any further. "I'm fine," he told her softly.

She couldn't help the blush that rose to her cheeks at the touch, but she didn't pull away. It was nice, standing there like that with him, that soft smile on his lips, and his skin against hers.

"Are you sure?" she asked softly, tilting her head just a bit, causing his hand to slide down to where he was cupping her chin.

He nodded again, his thumb absently running along the bottom of her chin. "Actually…I think the whole experience was kind of therapeutic." She raised an eyebrow at this, not sure if he was joking or not. "I'm serious," he told her. "I got a few hits in myself, you know. And I had closer."

She resisted the sudden urge to roll her eyes at the light tone of his voice. "Closer, huh?" she questioned, mirroring the small smile that drifted onto his own lips. "How so?"

"Well, we talked," he said. "About my feelings and shit, like you keep telling me too. I think it helped. I even told him that I was better than he was," he added, smiling a bit at the memory.

The two continued looking at each other, both content; thought he was still bleeding a bit, and it was becoming extremely difficult to try and keep his left eye open. It was only when she caught herself leaning towards his face that she realized exactly the position they were in. Another blush graced her features, and she slide her hand around to his back. He raised an eyebrow, only causing her blush to deepen.

"Get your mind out of the gutter. I'm helping you back to your room."

"Taking me to bed already? Aren't you at least going to buy me dinner first?"

She glared at him, but couldn't help laughing at the innocent expression he wore. "Come on," she said. He wrapped one arm around her waist just as she had done, and began leaning some of his weight against her. Not that he needed to or anything, because he was capable of walking; he just liked being close to her. She noticed the way he was walking, and realized herself that he could probably make it to his room by himself. She merely tightened her grip, smiled, and kept walking.

* * *

_I don't want your solutions  
And I don't wanna deal with your mistakes  
No matter how much medication  
The doctor says i need to take  
I still say -  
  
You're the ones that kill your babies  
You're the ones that fuck your kids  
You're the ones that throw each other away  
You're the ones sitting in church every sunday  
  
And I don't want your religions  
And I don't need your sympathies  
And I don't want a part of all your hatred  
No matter how much you yell at me  
I still say -_

_You're the ones that kill your babies  
You're the ones that fuck your kids  
You're the ones that throw each other away  
You're the ones sitting in church every sunday_

Every Sunday: Smile Empty Soul (seriously, listen to the cd while reading this fic, it'll make the expierence that much more enjoyable)


	10. Author's Note

As most of you probably know – whether it be from reading the note on my bio page or just using common sense – that I have not been writing for this story, or any other fanfiction, in quite a while.

First of all, I would like to apologize for my abrupt dropping of this and all my other stories. It was not my intention to halt every story I was working on, but I lost all inspiration and I feel there is no way I can finish any of these. Secondly, I would like to thank all of you who have reviewed this story. It was those words that kept me writing this for as long as I did.

Now – to the actual point of this.

I have recently received an e-mail from a fellow writer under the pen name of Sangi. She has requested to move this story to her account, and to finish it. I felt that if there was someone who really wanted to finish this, then they deserved the new 'rights' to it. I have replied to her and told her that she is more than welcome to this story. I really think that anyone who wants to see all of this played out should give what she does a chance. I am going to leave complete creativeness up to her, so this story might not have the ending I had in mind, but I have faith that Sangi will be able to pull it off.

Again, thank you to everyone who reviewed, and I hope you enjoy what Sangi will be offering!


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